


Treasures Lost and Found - Incomplete

by TheBatchild



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - Movie, F/M, slighty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBatchild/pseuds/TheBatchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all the treasures lost to Smaug were gold, and none of the treasures found on the road to Erebor were expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories of Erebor

**Author's Note:**

> This is movie-canon, so Balin and Dwalin are older than Thorin, and they were a little older when Smaug attacked the mountain. I'm also taking some liberties with female dwarves, since there isn't a whole lot of information on them. 
> 
> This fic will be written in three parts, one for each movie and the rating might change later, depending on how some things go. Enjoy!

In the first light of dawn and from Lake Town quite some distance away, The Mountain looked almost peaceful—as if there wasn't a dragon slumbering somewhere deep inside, buried in the gold and gems of the dwarves who had once called Erebor home.

_Almost peaceful, but I know he's there. I remember the heat of his fire on my skin._

Nerys leaned on the window ledge and sighed, propping her head up with one hand, her fingers lingering on the twisted scars on the left side of her face beneath her ear—only a fraction of the scars that marred the left side of her body. She'd barely managed to escape the blast of fire in time and the thought of how close she'd come to dying still haunted her, even after so long had passed. Smaug the dragon had taken everything from her except her life: her love, her family, her home. All gone.

And she couldn't even bring herself to leave the shadow of The Lonely Mountain, to get on with that life.

_I sit here every day and remember everything I lost; everything we all lost. I remember the sound of the stone crumbling, of his claws in the hall…_

The day had started off fairly normal. She'd woken early and dressed for hunting, an activity she took joy in, especially when she could be joined by one of her older brothers; Dwalin joined her much more than Balin did, the eldest of the siblings often being caught up with the king and the courtly business he was learning. That day held true to form and Dwalin and Nerys headed away from Erebor in hopes of finding some game in the early summer morning.

"You sure you remember how to use that bow?" Dwalin teased as they trudged through the long grass leading up to the trees. "It's been a long while since you shot anything besides a bale of hay."

She whacked the end of the bow in question against the top of her brother's head but joined in his laughter; he was quite a bit taller than her and she had to reach to preform her assault. He let her. "It hasn't been that long, brother, and besides, Thorin has resumed training with me."

"Your prince can show you all the tricks he likes—you were always hopeless with a bow." He turned just in time to catch the second assault with one hand, a smile on his face at the flush in Nerys' cheeks, the one that was always there when reference was made to the recent betrothal. "Come on, Nerys. Let's get moving or we won't catch a damn thing."

Giving into the childish impulse, she stuck her tongue out at Dwalin, but followed his lead anyway, dropping into silence as they entered the shade of the trees.

They weren't away from The Mountain for more than a few hours when they heard the first eerie howls of the wind. Thinking it was naught but a storm coming up, Dwalin and Nerys turned from the deer they'd been tracking and started back towards Erebor. The valley they were in would flood if it rained hard enough and, as the noise increased, that seemed the likely outcome. It wasn't until they were free of the small forest that they knew something else was up. The wind had picked up and the trees higher up the mountain were whipping violently back and forth; beats like muted thunder shook the air around them, but there was not a cloud in the sky.

"This is no storm," Nerys yelled, raising her voice to be heard above the wind.

"Aye. Let's hurry back."

They were almost home when they saw the first burst of fire, when those notes like thunder resolved themselves to be beats of enormous wings in the air. Nerys stopped dead, the wind pulling her chestnut hair across her face. A dragon, come to Erebor.

"Nerys!"

With difficultly, she tore her eyes off the massive beast and sprinted to catch up with Dwalin. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and pulled her through the gates, into the dim light of their city. Almost as if they'd been waiting, Nerys and Dwalin met up with Balin and Thorin just inside Erebor, standing at the head of the guard preparing to meet the dragon, preparing to hold him off so the majority of the population could escape, get somewhere safe. Balin tossed Dwalin his war axes and Thorin handed Nerys her swords. When she grasped the belts however, Thorin pulled her close.

"I want you to get out of here. Go with Dis and the others; get somewhere safe."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you handing me my swords?"

He looked like he was about to plead with her, but the loud thud of the dragon landing outside the gates cut him off. Thorin looked between her and the looming threat before he leaned down and kissed her, quick but thorough. He didn't say anything else, but they shared a quick look and Nerys' mouth split in a wide grin that almost hid the fear in her eyes. Thorin couldn't help but return the smile. Almost hesitantly, Nerys moved a few steps behind her betrothed as she strapped her swords about her hips and drew the blades into her hands, for all the good they'd do against a dragon.

When the beast finally burst through the gates into Erebor, he did so with a tremendous roar that rattled the stone pillars and weakened the resolve of many. Heavy chunks of wood flew in all directions, joined soon by armoured bodies and screams. The dragon was huge, feeling the expansive halls with its bulk and wings and claws and fire. The assembled dwarves, the guard, charged at a cry from their leader, their prince.

A good portion of the attacking dwarves were killed when chunks of rubble fell from the walls, the ceiling, when pillars collapsed; the dragon kept moving, pushing through towards the treasury as if the dwarves were no more than a mere annoyance—which they probably were—his claws crunching over the fallen rubble, tail sweeping from side to side. More were killed when the dragon tossed them to one side. Nerys rolled out of the way of the falling masonry, getting to her feet and looking around for Thorin and her brothers, trying to see through the dust and smoke. She caught Thorin's eyes over the dragon's tail just as some of the remaining dwarves sounded another charge.

The dragon turned its head back, a column of red-orange fire erupting from his mouth.

"NERYS!" Thorin cried, his voice the last thing she heard before the world around her became nothing but the heat and roar of dragon's fire.

"Nerys."

The sound of someone calling her name brought her back to the present, in Lake Town, many, many years after the attack. The dwarf woman shook her head, clearing the last of the memory from her mind for the time being—it would come back, it always did. She turned to the young woman who was standing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"We're heading up to the orchards after breakfast. Will you be joining us today?"

She nodded. "I will. I'll meet you and the others by the boats shortly."

The woman paused like she was going to say something else, but settled for offering a slightly awkward smile; it didn't matter how long Nerys had lived in Lake Town and Esgaroth before it, there was always someone who wasn't sure how to act around her. Being the only dwarf in permanent residence though, Nerys couldn't really blame them.

When she was alone again, Nerys turned back to the window and gazed once more at The Lonely Mountain before she pulled the shutters closed, shutting off the view and her thoughts of the past.

-

"Thorin, could I have a minute?"

The Would-Be King Under the Mountain turned to face Dain Ironfoot, not bothering to hide the scowl on his face. Thorin finished pulling on his cloak before he said, "I am sure you have said everything that needed saying."

"This is not about your quest to reclaim Erebor."

While he was still rather incensed by the other dwarf's refusal to join him and his company on their quest, Thorin had to admit he was mildly curious. What could be important enough for Dain to bring up now? He turned to face Dain squarely. "What is it?"

Now that he was free to speak however, Dain looked unsure of how to start. He held Thorin's gaze as he searched for the correct words, which was a mark in his credit. Many would have withered. "There were rumours of a dwarf woman living in Lake Town," he finally said. "Of a woman who has been there since the dragon attacked."

Something inside Thorin's chest tightened and his anger came to the surface, full force. But he held his tongue, just in case.

"We came through Lake Town on our way to Erid Luin and I saw her."

"Don't," Thorin said, the word unmistakeably a command.

Dain looked hesitant, but he inhaled a short breath to continue speaking anyway. "It was Nerys."

Thorin moved almost without thinking. He slammed Dain into the wall and put his face close, his expression dark, and when he spoke, the commanding tone back in his voice. "Do not speak of her to me! I watched her die; I watched her burn. It was not her you saw."

Dain was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

Something crossed over Thorin's face, the sting of the loss threatening to come to the surface after all the years. He gave Dain one last look of warning before he backed up. After another second's hesitation, Thorin left the room. With effort only lessened by years of practice, he rid his mind of the image of Nerys as he'd last seen her, surrounded by dragon fire. She couldn't be alive. He'd heard her screams as she'd burned. Heard her stop screaming. With considerably more effort, he rid himself of the image of Nerys as he remembered her: vibrant and stubborn and smiling.

The quest wasn't about revenge for one dwarf, or the loss of one dwarf. The quest was about reclaiming their home and their gold and re-establishing the great city of Erebor. The quest was revenge against the dragon.

-

"Are you sure this is the way, Fili? This doesn't look right."

"Of course I am. Look, there's the inn: The Green Dragon," Fili said, pointing to a squat building aglow in the shallow valley. "Kili, do those wagons look familiar to you?"

Kili moved up beside his brother and peered into the circle of dim light in front of the inn. He could make out two wooden wagons with their hitching posts resting the ground, one painted a dark green and the other blue. Four ponies could be seen grazing on the grass nearby and the windows in one of the wagons was illuminated. Kili could just make out the painted designs around the window, designs he and Fili had painted with the tinker's little daughter.

"Are those Bran's wagons?" he asked, eyes wide with excitement. "It's been years since we last saw the tinker!" Kili started along the road again, a smile on his face and Fili following behind. "I wonder if Hild has any of those delicious apple cakes made…"

Fili laughed at the gleam in his brother's eyes, brought on by the memory of the delectable baked goods. "Kili, I don't think they're open for business."

The brothers continued to laugh as they reached the wagons. Kili adjusted his hold on his weapons belt, hitching it farther up on his shoulder, and reached up to knock on the door at the back of the wagon. A moment and some shuffling later, Bran opened the door. He studied the dwarves for a moment before his lined face broke into a grin and he descended the short staircase to stand in front of his guests. The man would be nearly eighty years old now, but he moved with surety and looked no older than fifty, despite the grey working its way into his dark brown hair. He was only about the same height as Fili.

"Fili, Kili! How long has it been?"

Fili exchanged grips with Bran and clapped him on the shoulder. "Twenty five years, I believe. When you came back to The Blue Mountains, Kili and I were off hunting with our uncle. We were sorry to have missed you."

"Ah, that's right." Bran smiled again as he exchanged grips with Kili. "What brings you two to the Shire?"

"A meeting with our uncle," Kili answered. "Where is Hild? And your daughter?"

Bran's smile turned to laughter. "Hild is inside doing business and the girl… she's been travelling on her own for quite some time. She's not here to steal your knives or cut your hair." The travelling tinker waved away the apology on Kili's lips. "Do not fret. Perhaps you will encounter her on your travels," he added with a wink.

"How did you know we would be travelling?" Fili asked. Kili could see his brother's defences going up. The quest was supposed to be a secret.

Bran, sensing he might have said something wrong, held up his hands. "Dwalin stopped by and mentioned he would be travelling with some of his kin—that is all. I sharpened his axes and he went on his way." Bran gestured at the weapons the dwarves were laden with. "Do you need anything sharpened while you're here?"

Fili fell back into his normal, jovial set, and started handing over his collection of bladed weapons. "That would be great."

"Would you be able to tell us if we are headed in the right direction as well?" Kili asked.

-

Having spent most of her life travelling across Middle Earth, first with her parents and then on her own, Astrid knew better than to travel alone at night. But she was nowhere near a settlement and there were no farms or lights or any signs of people in sight, and the cries of the orcs or goblins or whatever they were in the valley were far too terrifying for her to stay in one spot. She wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, not with the threat of an attack in the middle of the night, so she might as well keep moving—maybe it'd make her more difficult to catch.

Another high-pitched cry echoed through the valley and Astrid shuddered, leaning closer to her pony's neck and pulling her cloak tighter about her shoulders. Midnight gave a small whiny beneath her and she reached out to stroke the pony's neck, doing her best to hush the loyal animal at the same time she urged her mount a little faster.

A twig or branch snapped to her left and she jumped.

"Real good idea Astrid, taking the road next the mountains, devoid of all civilization," she muttered as the pony's pace quickened to a trot. "Should have just found a hole and hid for the night."

She heard a low growl in the trees and knew the orcs or goblins or whatever had found her. Adjusting her grip on the reins, Astrid dug her heels into her pony's sides and hoped the animal was fast enough to get away from the deformed creatures. The growling turned to snarling and whooping as the hunched and grey-skinned goblins burst through the trees and from the rocks on either side of the narrow path, grabbing for Midnight and Astrid. As startled as her rider, Midnight leapt into a gallop, leaving Astrid to just hang on.

The burst of speed separated them from most of the creatures, but Astrid knew from the hollering that they weren't far enough behind, and two had managed to cling onto her saddle. Astrid reached under her cloak and drew one of her knives, spinning it into the proper grip and stabbing it down into neck of the goblin to her right. The blade glanced off bone, but the wound to the shoulder was still enough to get the foul beast to let go.

Midnight screamed and Astrid switched the hands holding the knife and reins as quickly as she could. The other goblin had sunk its teeth into the pony's side. There was blood gushing around its lips. Before Astrid could attack, the creature pulled back from the bite and reached up, a gruesome sword in its hand. It slammed the blade into Astrid's side, the awkward angle preventing any immediately life-threatening damage, but as she felt the blood begin to soak her clothes, Astrid knew she'd probably be dead if she didn't find help soon. The goblin lifted itself up, trying to climb farther up the saddle, and Astrid drove her blade into its mouth, using as much strength as she could muster. As the creature fell, it twisted and pulled the knife from Astrid's hand.

"Damn," Astrid breathed, trying to snag the hilt as the creature fell. She cursed again as she pressed her hand to her side, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "Damn it."

She could still hear the goblins behind her, running and growling and yelling, and she knew that Midnight couldn't keep up her current pace forever. Astrid cast a hopeful glance at her surroundings and knew she could make it to Rivendell before morning. As long as her pony could hold out. As long as Astrid could stay conscious.


	2. Rivendell

Astrid awoke to find herself in an airy room, surrounded by the clean and comforting smells of stone, trees, water, and sunlight. She closed her eyes and sighed happily, for though she was stiff and sore, she knew she was in Rivendell, healed and safe. Her initial panic at being somewhere strange faded and she settled back against the pillows, her eyes roving over the autumn trees visible through the windows, the gold and green and red filling the valley around the spindly structures Astrid knew made up Rivendell. She listened to the sounds of life and the waterfalls around her and smiled.

She had visited the elves there twice before, both times with her parents and never for longer than three days, so the opportunity to explore had been sadly limited. Even just the slightly sleep-blurred glimpse of what lay beyond the room had given her the itch to explore, and if her side hadn’t hurt, she would have climbed out of bed then and begun to wander.

“It is good to see you awake,” said a voice from the doorway. 

Astrid gave a small start and pulled her eyes from the trees and waterfalls outside. The elf standing in the door was tall—though, with Astrid standing at just about five feet, everyone seemed tall—and lithe, like all his kin. His hair was dark and fell about his shoulders from under a thin silver circlet. The slight grin on his lips and in his brown eyes brought a smile to Astrid’s face and she relaxed again, her side protesting at the sudden bursts of movement. 

“Lindir,” she said, grateful to see a familiar face. Astrid moved so she was in a more upright position, propped against the pillows and headboard. “It is good to see you. How long have I been asleep for?”

“Three nights. This is the fourth morning since you arrived in Imladris.”

Astrid nodded absently as she searched her mind for some memory of what happened between the goblin’s sword biting into her side and her waking up in Rivendell. She remembered riding hard, worried she was going to pass out from blood loss, worried the goblins would catch up, eat her alive. She thought she remembered slipping from the saddle, cool voices filling the air around her. Vague images of Lord Elrond’s face floated around her head in a haze of white light and elvish words she couldn’t understand. She shook her head and looked back to Lindir, who was watching her with an expression she would place somewhere between concerned and confused. 

“Are you well?” 

“I am fine. That is just… a lot of time to lose track of. I have some memories, though they may not be real,” she added, tapping her temple lightly. “I assume I have Lord Elrond to thank for my still being among the living?”

Lindir nodded. “My Lord Elrond believes the goblin’s blade left you with an illness, which rendered you unconscious. You awoke several times, but you were delirious and spoke nothing but nonsense.”

“Then I must thank Lord Elrond for his effort and skill. I feel like myself now.”

The elf gave her another small smile. “That is good to hear, Astrid. If you are feeling up to it, I will take you to see Lord Elrond.”

Astrid paused a moment to think about the prospect of getting out of bed. She actually felt a little weak and shaky, but it was nothing some food would not cure, though she felt no hunger. Maybe some activity would awaken her appetite and loosen the stiffness in her injured side, and she very much wanted to see more of the elven house. “I would like that.”

“Then I will leave you to change. I will await you outside your chamber.” 

Once she was alone, Astrid slowly slid out of the bed. She stood for a moment, wiggling her toes against the sun-warmed stone floor and waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. Bracing herself for an influx of pain, she moved and twisted a bit, finding her current range of movement; the wound was well-healed and the only pain she experienced was from pulling around the scar. Astrid pulled the white garment she was wearing up to find two straight pink scars below her ribs on her left side. She didn’t remember being struck twice, but the blade could have jumped. It wasn’t as if the goblin had struck from sure ground.

Astrid found her saddlebags neatly lined up against the wall by the bedside table, the clothes she had been wearing, minus the ruined shirts, cleaned and folded atop them, and her lone remaining knife and belt tucked into the side of one of the bags. Moving carefully, she pulled on her black leggings and a dark green loose shirt from one of her bags. In favour of more freedom of movement and not causing herself more pain, she left her shirt flowing freely about her torso, the hem reaching the tops of her thighs, and left off her belt and arm bracers, anything that was unnecessary weight. She sat on the floor to lace her boots on and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the mess three nights of sleep and apparently lots of tossing and turning had made of it. As she left the room to join Lindir, she decided braiding it over one shoulder would make her more presentable for the Lord Elrond. 

As they walked, Astrid was struck by the beauty of the valley, just as she had been on both previous visits. She spent as much time looking around her as looking forward and nearly ran into several pillars and benches as Lindir led her through the halls of Rivendell, much to the elf’s amusement. Walking did help loosen her stiff muscles, and by the time they reached Elrond’s solar, her stomach was grumbling softly; she hoped none of the elves would notice. 

Elrond smiled warmly at Astrid as she entered the room. “It is good to see you on your feet, Astrid. How are you feeling?”

Astrid returned the smile and gave a shallow curtsey, all she could manage with her side as it was. Elrond noticed her rigid movements and gestured to the table behind him. Astrid seated herself gratefully, and was even more pleased to find there was food laid out and waiting. The elf lord made another gesture and Astrid set to filling one of the small plates and nibbling at the delicious fruits and nuts until she felt a little more stable. His role complete in getting Astrid to Lord Elrond, Lindir left the room, though Astrid doubted he’d go far. On her previous visits to Rivendell, Lindir had seemed capable of being everywhere he was needed, exactly when he was needed. Maybe Elrond could communicate with the elves telepathically; by the look he cast after Lindir, Astrid would not have been surprised to learn that was the case. 

“I am well,” she answered, once the bizarre thoughts have left her head and she’d swallowed her current mouthful of food. Sitting made making eye contact much easier, even with the vast height difference between the elf and human, and it made the meeting much less formal, so she elaborated on her statement. “A little stiff, and perhaps a little weak, but nothing unbearable. Thank you for seeing me well, and for your hospitality.” 

“You are most welcome, and my hospitality will extend until you have recovered enough strength to continue your journey.”

Astrid’s eyes lit up at the thought and Elrond gave a soft laugh. “That would be wonderful, and most kind.”

“I am not in the habit of turning away those in need, and your father has done me many favours through the years. I count him a friend. It would be remiss of me to send you on your way before you were well enough to travel. Besides,” he added, a knowing grin on his face, “I seem to recall you expressing an interest in getting a better look at Rivendell when last you visited.” 

Astrid’s smile only grew as she thanked him in earnest.

-

The Misty Mountains loomed ahead on the horizon, the foothills and trees a lush green surrounding the grey-blue peaks. From where the dwarves, hobbit, and wizard currently were the road appeared to vanish into a large copse of trees, though Thorin knew it wound up into the snow and through the narrow pass in the mountains. From there, they would head to the Greenwood—Mirkwood as it was now called—and on the other side of the vast forest land, Erebor.

With any luck, they would avoid Lake Town. Lake Town where Dain had said… 

Thorin shook his head hard and tried to push the thoughts of Nerys away, but suddenly everything seemed to remind him of her. For so many years he had rarely thought of her. He had moved on with his life, and with a few simple words from Dain, it had all come back. 

He shook his head again and tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere.

“You have spent much of the journey so far deep in thought,” Dwalin said as he rode up beside Thorin. “Even your nephews have begun to notice. What is it that troubles you?”

Thorin looked sideways at Dwalin, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he continued the mental debate he’d been having on and off with himself pretty much since the company had left the Shire.

Balin and Dwalin were Nerys’s older brothers, and they deserved to know what Dain had told Thorin at the meeting in Erid Luin, but Thorin wasn’t sure he should—or could—tell them. The three of them had grieved for many years, and though they still occasionally shared memories of her when they were deep in their cups, they had learned to live with her death. Saying that she might be alive, that she had been alive all these years, would be cruel. Thorin could attest to that, finding it nearly impossible to put thoughts of his betrothed from his mind, to focus on the quest, and the more he tried to think of Erebor, of getting his people home, the more he dwelt on his memories of her, thoughts and feelings tied up with the kingdom under the mountain. And he did not want to put that on Balin and Dwalin.

And, he was ashamed to admit, there was part of him that wanted to keep the information to himself, even if he had no hope that it was true. 

“It is nothing, Dwalin,” he answered eventually, looking straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with his friend. “Only thoughts of the quest and of seeing the halls of Erebor again.”

The larger dwarf scoffed, a noise saying he did not believe the dwarf prince, but he knew better than to push for an answer Thorin didn’t want to give. He rode another moment beside Thorin, waiting to see if he would change his mind, before hanging back to once again ride with Balin. They would no doubt discuss what they thought was actually bothering Thorin. The leader of the company rolled his eyes and turned his gaze forward, to the hard-packed dirt of the road, winding along in front of them. 

He made himself think of Erebor as it would be when the dragon was gone and he was king. He made himself think of the route they would take to Erebor, of how it would feel to bring Dis and the others from The Blue Mountains home. He made himself think of what it would mean for Fili and Kili to finally see the splendor of the Lonely Mountain. He made himself think of the future and ignore the past.

-

Astrid spent a restful week at Rivendell before anything of note happened. 

She spent the first day and a half taking short walks and sleeping, and when she could rest no more, she went in search of something to read. Elrond permitted her access to the massive amounts of books stored within Rivendell and she took to them with a hunger; it had been a while since she’d stayed somewhere with such a range of literature. She read history and legend and tried to teach herself a little Sindarin beyond what she already knew, but didn’t get very far before she found herself bored. Near the end of the week, she began to feel restless from all the sitting and, after watching some archers practice, decided her time amongst the elves would be a good time to try and teach herself archery. It was something she had wanted to do for quite some time.

It was during her first self-imposed lesson she heard the hunting horns echo through the valley. The noise was sudden and loud and Astrid nearly dropped the bow she was holding as she jumped in shock. Her heart pounding in her ears, she looked around and every elf she could see had turned their head towards the noise, though they went back to whatever they’d been doing after only a brief second of stillness; maybe they had been waiting to see if there were any further blasts, some sort of signal. 

“Lindir!” she called out upon spotting the familiar face. She had spoken to, and quite liked, some of the other elves, and would have asked them, but Lindir seemed to always know what was going on. “What is going on?”

“An orc pack was sighted nearing our borders, Lord Elrond and his sons have ridden out with a hunting party to find them.”

Astrid was not envious of hunting and killing orcs—the foul things scared her, though thankfully she had not encountered many of them in her life—but the thought of getting out riding filled her with joy. It was the same feeling to have sent her on her solo journey across Middle Earth in the first place, and since Midnight had recovered as well as her rider from the attack, Astrid could leave at any time. 

“Do orcs normally venture so close to the Valley?” she asked, pushing all thoughts of leaving from her mind for the time being. 

“They do not. They know to come so close almost certainly means death.” Lindir gave a small sigh, a barely perceptible movement of his shoulder accompanying the faint exhale. “It is an odd occurrence, though I am sure Lord Elrond will have some answers upon his return.”

Astrid returned the shooting range as Lindir took his leave, and resumed her attempts at finding the proper stance. She’d been attempting to mimic the elves on the field, and they had left her to it after a few declined offers of help. It didn’t take long for anyone around her to realize Astrid would ask for help only when she admitted to herself she needed it and not a moment sooner. They two others using the archery range were standing at the other end as a precaution—a well-founded one as it turned out. The first arrow she tried to fire went far to the right, landing in the water behind the row of targets. 

She attempted to fire a few more arrows, adjusting the stance each time, and was in the midst of collecting the spent shafts when she saw Lindir headed through the halls again, headed for the main entrance to the house and moving fast enough to tell her something was happening. Astrid, her curiosity getting the better of her, left the bow and quiver propped against the target she’d been firing at and hurried after the elf. He looked down at her with a small smile as she fell in step beside him, evidently unsurprised she’d followed him.

“Is Lord Elrond returning?” she asked. 

“No. The horns will announce his return. We have some unexpected guests approaching.” 

Lindir gestured to his left and Astrid peered over the low wall to the mountain path leading down to the gates. She could make out fifteen figures walking in nearly single file, one much taller than the others and wearing a pointed hat. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out more detail of the others. They were, with the exception of one near the front of the line, all weighed down with heavy packs and weapons, and some of them were sporting quite elaborate hairstyles and beards. 

“Dwarves?” 

Lindir nodded. 

Astrid gave a quick burst of laughter which faded into a smile. She pushed stray strands of her dark hair from her face and watched the figures make their way to Rivendell. “I spent some time with the dwarves in the Blue Mountains when I was little. It was twenty-five years ago though. I doubt I could tell if any of these dwarves were ones I met back then,” she said, more to herself than Lindir. Astrid leaned on the low wall as Lindir walked down the steps to meet the dwarves and studied the faces of the newcomers, wishing her memory of that time wasn’t so spotty.

-

Kili wasn’t sure what he expected to find at Rivendell, but he knew the sight waiting in the valley was not it. 

The complex of buildings and bridges and towers seemed stuck in a perpetual autumn, reds and orange and greens hanging in a golden glow. Waterfalls, ponds, and rivers surrounded Rivendell, the sounds filling the air, and Kili found it oddly calming. He had heard Thorin’s stories of the elves of the Greenwood, but perhaps the elves of the Hidden Valley were different; he doubted anyone cold enough to leave two cities to burn without lifting a finger could live in a place so warm. He let himself look around in wonder, even share a smile with his brother—they had spent their whole lives in the Blue Mountains and the nearby villages of men, and they had never seen anything like this—but he kept his thoughts to himself. 

He was surprised to see an elf already moving to greet them as the company filed in between two statues of elves in their ancient armour, but he guessed they had scouts stationed at all the entrances to the valley, to keep an eye on those coming and going. Gandalf moved forward to talk to the elf and Kili’s eyes continued to wander. Even more surprising than the elf coming to greet them however, was the second face watching their approach: a short woman with freckles and bright eyes, her arms folded on the low wall in front of her where she leaned at the top of the stairs.

She found his eyes and smiled warmly, a welcoming gesture. Kili found she looked familiar when she smiled, something in that expression tugging at the back of his mind, a memory long since forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were wondering, Nerys will be in each odd-numbered chapter, since she’s not fully involved in the story yet. She will be though. Once we get there. 
> 
> Also, Since Day One (the Thorin/Nerys prequel) is being posted now, and The Adventures of Tiny Astrid (the Astrid among the dwarves prequel) will be along shortly. 
> 
> Also also, this fic is proving more difficult than I thought it would to write. It should get easier, once I get to the parts I want to write, i.e. Chapter Four, and maybe even the next chapter if it goes the way I want it to. Astrid is not a character who lends well to planning and Nerys is phenomenally stubborn, so this could get interesting. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you’re enjoying this!


	3. The Dwarves

Despite Thorin's conviction they would find no assistance in Rivendell, Lord Elrond delivered on his promise of food and provided shelter as well, for as long as was necessary.

The support was well received by most of the dwarves, especially the food—though there was no meat, and far too much of the airy tones the elves considered music. Kili spent most of the meal observing the room around him and the people filling it, and just sort of picked at the food in front of him; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly to his taste, either. Thorin was conversing with Lord Elrond and Gandalf about the swords they'd found in the troll hoard, and most of the other dwarves were complaining about the green food or the music or sitting in mute contemplation of where they could get some protein. The other elves who had joined the meal seemed rather detached from what was going on around them, though Kili couldn't tell if they were always like that or if it was because there were dwarves in attendance. One elf, a redhead who was uncharacteristically expressive, kept looking at the dwarves like she'd learn every detail about them just by studying their faces.

The strangely familiar woman he'd seen when they arrived in Rivendell was not in attendance.

After the rather unsatisfactory, though still appreciated, meal was over, the dwarves returned to the open and airy rooms they'd been given for their stay in Rivendell. Most of them began turning the area into something they considered more suitable for dwarves, and it didn't take long for each of the dwarves to find an area to make their own. When Kili set out to explore the complex of bridges and buildings after piling his things in an unclaimed alcove, Gloin was building a fire in the middle of the room with what looked like broken furniture and Bombur was digging some of the sausages they'd packed out to cook. Kili almost sat back down around the fire at the first wafts of roasting meat, but he couldn't help thinking it would be a long time before he had another opportunity to explore Rivendell, if he ever had another opportunity at all.

"Where are you going Kili?"

He turned to face his brother and gave him an easy smile. "To have a look around. Neither Uncle nor Gandalf were clear on how long we would be in Rivendell, and I want to see more of this place. Do you want to come with me?"

Fili nodded after a moment of silent deliberation. "Let's hope there is still some meat when we return."

The brothers shared a smile as they started across the stone bridge connecting their rooms to what appeared to be the main part of Rivendell. For a while, they walked in silence, passing rooms full of books and artifacts, gardens surrounded by tall, gnarled trees and full of brightly coloured night-blooming flowers, and here and there an elf or two, gleaming in the moonlight as they floated across the paths. The valley was full of the natural music of the waterfalls and rivers and wind, and every once in a while, a snippet of elvish music more haunting than what they'd heard at dinner. Millions of stars were visible overhead and it was astounding how little noise from beyond the valley reached this place. It was almost as if it existed apart from the rest of Middle Earth.

Eventually they found themselves standing on a narrow balcony above a large stone area, the targets arranged along one edge and other paraphernalia lying about marking it as an archery range. There was a lone figure in the middle of the range, a bow raised and an arrow drawn back. Kili leaned on the railing to watch as the arrow shot across the range and missed the target by about four feet. Behind him Fili laughed, but any amusement Kili might have found in the display was lost as his eyes narrowed and he studied the figure.

"Did you see the woman at the top of the stairs when we arrived?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the sight in front of him.

Fili appeared beside Kili and leaned on the railing as well. "I saw her, but I did not get a good look. Why do you ask?"

"She seemed… familiar somehow." He pointed at the figure, who was drawing another arrow back. "That is her."

"Familiar? Was she a dwarf?"

Kili raised his eyebrows at his brother's comment and gave a short scoff. "No." His eyes went back to the woman, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as she stomped across the range to retrieve her arrow. "I cannot think where I would know her from."

"Then it is probably nothing. Perhaps she looks like someone you have actually met?"

"Perhaps," Kili agreed, though he didn't think it was the case. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there had been something about her eyes, about the way she carried herself that was too familiar to be a shadow of someone else.

Fili made a noise that told Kili his brother didn't approve of the direction Kili's thoughts were taking—as if he could read Kili's mind. The younger dwarf knew this wasn't the time to be chasing phantom memories, but they weren't actively headed for Erebor at this moment and they weren't likely to be actively heading for Erebor for the next few days at least, so… why not chase those memories? Why not try and figure out why the woman was familiar to him? Kili turned and looked at Fili, who rolled his eyes and started walking back the way they'd come.

"Come brother, we should be getting back to the others," he said, exasperated though none of Kili's thoughts had actually left his mind.

Kili pulled himself from the sight of yet another failed shot and followed his brother back through the corridors of Rivendell to where the rest of the company had made themselves quite at home.

-

Astrid was up early the next morning, despite a late end to the previous day and rather sore arms. Her scars from her injury were pulling a bit when she moved and she was tired, but she was determined to get the hang of her newest fascination. She was close to accepting help from one of the elves, but first she'd give it one more shot on her own. So, once she was dressed and had eaten something quick, Astrid took the borrowed bow in hand and made her way along the familiar path to the archery range—a path which now led past the rooms where the dwarves were staying.

As she neared the temporary dwarf settlement, she was greeted with the smell of a dying campfire and the low rumble of several dwarves snoring. She snickered to herself, even as she inhaled the lingering scents of burning wood and cooking meat, and allowed herself a minute to wonder about starting her trek west again. Midnight was in the stables, she could go back to her room, pack her things, saddle up her horse and go, but…

_Not yet,_ she told herself, though she wasn't sure what exactly was keeping her in Rivendell. _Your side is not quite healed enough yet. That is what's keeping you here._

Astrid shook her head and pushed beyond the dwarf camp and the thoughts of travelling like they were. She walked with renewed, and perhaps slightly forced, purpose to the archery range and set herself up at the farthest target, so anyone else wishing to practice could do so well clear of her and her wild arrows.

It was nearing mid-morning when she felt someone watching her.

She tried to ignore it—it wasn't like she hadn't drawn any attention before from the elves of Rivendell—and drew back another arrow. Her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled a deep breath and she relaxed into the stance she'd chosen. Just before she loosed the arrow, she opened her eyes and stared hard at the target, visualizing the arrow digging into the straw; it worked for her when fighting with her knives, why not with the bow as well? The snap of the string thrummed in her ear and the arrow went wide of the target again.

Using some of the more vibrant curses she'd picked up from her father over the years, Astrid crossed the range to retrieve the wayward projectile, her hand tightening around her bow in frustration. As she returned to the firing line, laughter reached her ears and she looked around, knowing it was coming from whoever had been watching her. She found the source of the noise after only a second or two of looking, since he wasn't trying to hide or anything: it was one of the dwarves who had arrived the day before. He was grinning at her, his dark eyes shining with the expression under a fringe of dark brown bangs. Something about the expression was familiar, comforting even. Astrid set her jaw and dismissed the thought.

"Is something amusing you?" she snapped.

"I have never heard a woman curse so colourfully," he said, starting across the distance between them.

When he was standing in front of her, she could see she was about an inch taller than him. Not for the first time in her life, she wondered if her father's theory about there being dwarf blood in their background was true. Astrid met the dwarf's gaze and tried to put all her frustration in the look, though she was finding it difficult. She had the strangest feeling she knew this dwarf. Astrid narrowed her eyes further and exhaled sharply through her nose before turning her attention back to the range.

"Your arm holding the string is too relaxed and the bow you are using is too big for you."

"Who are you to tell me so?" she asked without looking back at the dwarf.

She caught the smirk out of the corner of her eye and watched as he drew a short bow over his shoulder and fired three quick shots at the target in front of him. All three of them were fairly close to the centre. The smirk still on his face, he sketched a little bow, his eyes never leaving her face. It was only then she actually noticed the quiver strapped to his back, the handle of a sword peeking out from between it and his back; maybe he had come to practice.

"Kili—at your service."

Despite her annoyance at his sudden appearance, his unasked-for comments, and the familiarity about him, Astrid felt a smile tugging at her lips. "Astrid, at yours." Something flickered across his face at her name, something that influenced the next words from her mouth, words she hadn't intended to utter. "I will gladly make use of your service if you teach me to shoot a bow properly."

"With pleasure. Here, try my bow. It will be easier to learn on a smaller bow." He handed her the bow in his hands and took hers, laying it gently on the stone several paces behind them where it wouldn't come to a bitter end.

Feeling a little less confident than she had at the beginning of the endeavour, Astrid took her stance, very conscious of Kili watching her. She gave a start when he stepped up behind her and began to adjust the position of her arms. He quietly instructed her to tense this muscle, or move that finger, to touch her mouth with the hand holding the string, using it as an anchor for the shot. When he felt she was in the proper position, or as close as she was going to get in her untrained state, he gave her the go-ahead and she loosed the arrow. It landed in the target, a couple of inches from the edge. It was by far the best shot she'd made, and the smile on her face reflected that.

After sharing the look with Kili, who was also smiling quite brilliantly, Astrid took up the stance and tried to mimic the corrections he'd made. She started again when Kili's fingers landed on her arm and turned her head a bit, just enough to put his nose behind her ear, his laughter on her neck.

"Eyes front."

She murmured an apology and focused hard on the target, trying to ignore the shiver sliding down her spine in reaction to the feel of his breath on her skin. She was grateful when he stepped back to let her shoot.

Astrid landed that shot and the next, and soon was able to hold the stance with minimal correction from the dwarf, though her aim was still far from good. After she let fly a few more shots, the impromptu lesson devolved into a competition to see who could land the most arrows out of ten. They took turns with Kili's bow and spent as much time ribbing each other as they did shooting, and even though they were technically engaged in a competition, Kili's pointers continued. Kili won, of course, but it was good practice and Astrid was laughing by the end of it, though the muscles in her stomach and arms were quivering from the intense and unfamiliar use they'd seen in the past few hours. The laughter continued as they both crossed the range to retrieve the arrows from the ground and the narrow stream behind the range where Astrid's most wayward shots had found purchase.

"You should come and join the company for dinner," Kili said as they started away from the range. "I believe you would enjoy meeting the others."

Astrid returned his grin and nodded, bumping her shoulder against his. "I may."

"Then you can tell me what brought you to Rivendell and why you decided to attempt to teach yourself… do you call that archery?"

She bumped his shoulder again, this time with a little more force, causing him to stumble a step to the side. He laughed loudly, the sound drawing disapproving looks from a couple elves who were having a quiet discussion nearby. Trying to keep her own laughter contained, Astrid gave an apologetic wave and hurried on, shoving a still-laughing Kili ahead of her.

-

When the sun had set and Rivendell was once again bathed in moonlight, Astrid made her way along the path to the dwarf encampment. There really was no other word for it, considering they had built a fire in the middle of the room and had piled their gear around it. A couple of the dwarves didn't seem to be interested in using the beds provided. They were currently all seated around the fire, laughing and eating and drinking, and it was a moment before any of them noticed her, hovering in the doorway.

"Can we help you lass?" the dwarf closest to her asked. His dark hair was braided and stuck out from either side of his head and his moustache matched. It was an odd appearance, but it suited the dwarf's bright eyes and crooked smile.

"Uh, I was—"

"Astrid!"

Relieved, she smiled at Kili, who was seated across the room. The dwarf blocking her path stepped aside and smiled warmly at her as she crossed the room, keeping her eyes ahead and trying not to feel self-conscious of the eleven pairs of eyes watching her. She settled herself on the ground beside Kili, instantly glad she had removed her outer tunic; the room was almost too warm to be comfortable, with all the bodies in addition to the fire.

Kili handed her a plate of food—the meat was hot and delicious, especially after eating the food of the elves for nearly two weeks—and Astrid felt more comfortable. She spent the first little while listening to the conversations around her as she ate and laughing at the raucous behaviour and stories of the dwarves. They were welcoming and friendly and, after a round of introductions Astrid was sure she'd never remember, she set her plate aside and joined in the singing and laughing and drinking; she had no idea where they would have procured ale, but in the moment, it didn't really matter.

"I believe you agreed to tell me what brought you to Rivendell," Kili informed her during a lull in the noise.

She shuffled around so she was sitting with her back against the nearby pillar and could face Kili. "Did I now?" she asked, taking a drink from the cup of ale in her hand. "Well, it is not that exciting. I was attacked on the road and Lord Elrond healed my injury. He allowed me to stay until I was healed enough to continue west."

"You are travelling on your own?"

Astrid drained her cup and nodded, waving away the budding concern she could see. "Yes, yes, I have been on my own for years—what about you? What brings you and this illustrious group of dwarves to the Last Homely House?"

If Kili was perturbed by the change of topic, he didn't show it. "A wizard brought us here."

"A wizard?"

"Yes—Gandalf. He is travelling with us."

"Where are you headed?"

Kili opened his mouth to respond, but their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of one of the other dwarves. Astrid's eyes went wide as she took in the appearance of the dwarf; she had seen him across the fire earlier in the evening, but up close she could see the tattoos across his bald head, tattoos she remembered tracing with her finger while perched on his shoulders. Suddenly she knew why Kili, and his brother Fili, had seemed familiar: they had met, when she five was her and her parents had been staying in the Blue Mountains. Something of her recognition must have showed on her face, because Kili looked at her curiously and Dwalin, for that was the other dwarf's name, smiled.

Unsure of how to proceed, Astrid pushed herself to her feet and mumbled a hasty excuse about being tired before heading for the door. She knew Dwalin was following her, but she didn't stop until she was well outside of earshot.

"There was no need to panic Astrid," Dwalin said once she had stopped.

She turned to face him, caught by the sudden memory of how big he'd seemed when she was little and almost startled to find his eyes level with hers. "I apologize, but I… I was not prepared for that. Kili does not—"

"No. He does not remember who you are."

Astrid breathed a sigh of a relief. "Good. Good. I… I am not proud of the things I did when I was young."

"I am sure he has forgiven you for cutting his hair."

She weathered Dwalin's chuckle with an unamused look. "Please do not say anything about it to him."

"If you think that is best, I will not."

"Thank you." She gave him a small smile and then said, "From your intervention, I assume the reason a company of dwarves was led to Rivendell by Gandalf the Grey is not one to be shared?"

"No, it is not," Dwalin replied, though his tone suggested he would have liked to tell Astrid.

"I will not pry then," Astrid promised. "As much as I may want to."

Dwalin laughed. "I don't think we will be in Rivendell for much longer, but it would be good to speak to you again, little one."

A brilliant smile took over Astrid's face at the old nickname as she nodded her agreement.

-

Nerys found herself staring at the Lonely Mountain more frequently after her near run in with Dain. She hadn't actually spoken to him or any of the dwarves from his company, but she had seen them as they made their way through Lake Town and had been filled with an aching need to go to them, talk to them, be with others of her own kind, but something had kept her from taking the last step. She'd remained watching from a distance, tears in her eyes and panic in her chest. She'd thought Dain had seen her at one point but he didn't approach her so she assumed she'd been mistaken.

When Dain and the other dwarves had left Lake Town, Nerys had been left with a hole inside and she'd found comfort in the image of the Lonely Mountain on the horizon. She'd even gone so far as to walk to the hills outside Lake Town in her spare moments to better she what remained of her home, and she spent more and more time thinking about Erebor and Esgaroth and her life before the dragon.

When rumours of a quest to reclaim the mountain started to trickle into Lake Town, brought by those travelling through, Nerys grew restless and uncomfortable in a life she'd thought she'd grown to enjoy. Suddenly, the things she liked doing—cooking, tending the orchards and gardens, helping out in the market—didn't occupy her mind or bring her the joy they once had and all she could think about was finding out if the rumours were true, if there was someone coming to rid the world of Smaug and return Erebor to the dwarves. Or steal the treasure that still lay deep within the mountain. Nerys just wanted to find out.

However, she found she still couldn't bring herself to leave Lake Town. She'd lived a sheltered life, first imposed by the culture of the dwarves and then by herself and the idea of leaving scared her.

But if there was someone leading a quest, it might be Thorin, come to reclaim his birthright.

She could find him—there weren't that many roads leading to Lake Town—she could see him again, her prince.

The idea was almost enough to get her to leave.

Almost.

"Nerys, you're burning the vegetables!"

Nerys pulled herself out of her reverie—she was slipping into them more and more lately, especially when there was a window with a north-facing view. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I was lost in thought."

"No matter." The woman, named Kelda, was the owner of one of the taverns in the centre of Lake Town. She picked up the pot with the burned food and dumped it in a dish by the door, a few dogs coming to investigate. "But are you all right dear? You have not been yourself lately. Is it the rumours about the mountain?"

Nerys nodded. Kelda handed her another pot and the dwarf woman began filling it with replacement ingredients. "It is. It is a lot to think about."

"You lived at Erebor, did you not?"

"I did, when I was young." Nerys's throat tightened at the thought, but she resolved to pay more attention to her task. She would not think of Thorin, of her life long past. There were other things to think about. "I… do not really remember it all that well," she said by way of putting an end to the conversation.

"Pity. I have heard stories of its splendor."

"If these rumours are true, perhaps we will both get to see it again." Nerys smiled at Kelda, the expression forced, though the busy innkeeper didn't seem to notice. "I, for one, will wait for Dain Ironfoot to return to ask him of these rumours. If anyone will know the truth, it will be him."

Kelda nodded her agreement and went back about her business. As Nerys added some spices to the vegetables and stirred, she wished she could actually have the surety she pretended to have. She would wait for Dain to return, to find out what he'd learned in the Blue Mountains, but what she'd do once she had the information… she only wished she knew. She sighed and made herself focus on her current task.


	4. A Reminder

"How did I let you goad me into this?"

Astrid grinned, her eyes flaring with devious light as she backed away from Kili, the wooden practice swords clutched in her hands. She relaxed out of the fighting stance, flicked the stray strands of hair out of her eyes and adjusted the way her green shirt was sitting—it was sticking to her back and sides with sweat. They'd been at it for a while.

They'd stumbled upon some of the non-lethal weapons two days beforehand while looking for a shorter bow for Astrid to use and, elated at the chance to best the dwarf in a contest of weapons, she'd suggested she try and teach Kili how to wield two of the long knives that were her favoured weapons. Having been trained as a warrior his whole life, Kili had little trouble adjusting to the weight of having a blade in each hand, but Astrid was more familiar with the setup and she was quite a bit faster.

At first, she'd held back during the sparring matches, just enough to give Kili a chance to adjust to the different fighting style; it was the same way he'd held back when they'd first started competing to see who could land the most arrows in a target, though she hadn't known that was what he was doing until he'd stopped. But now they were attacking each other with everything they had short of deadly intent and it was fun. That Astrid kept winning might have been contributing to her enjoyment, but Kili was making her work for her victories and she was enjoying that far more.

"Perhaps you felt bad for always besting me at archery?" Astrid offered, taking up her starting stance again. She narrowed her eyes at her opponent, her mouth drawn up in a smirk. "Are you up for another round or are your surrendering?"

Kili gave an over-exaggerated sigh and took his stance as well. A smile took over his face as Astrid advanced, her dark braid swinging around her shoulders and beads of sweat sliding along her cheeks. The exertion was getting to Kili was well, who had shed his coat and vest in favour of increased movement and less heat; the heavy clothes sat in a pile off to the side with his bow, quiver, and sword. He caught Astrid's attack and retaliated using a move she'd taught him.

Even with the knowledge that she and Kili had met before reinstated in her mind, and that he would probably hate her if he remembered, Astrid found it a little unsettling how quickly the pair of them had taken to each other.

The dwarves had been in Rivendell for almost a week, though Astrid wasn't sure why they had remained so long, and she and Kili had spent much of the time together on the archery range or sparring in abandoned spaces. Dwalin was still keeping all information to himself about Astrid's past in the Blue Mountains, and though she'd joined the dwarves around their fires more than once, she had garnered no more information beyond that the company was on a quest—a very important quest, she'd surmised after spotting Thorin speaking to Lord Elrond one morning. If he was anything like she remembered him being, the dwarven prince would not have left the settlement in the Blue Mountains lightly.

Regardless of all the secrecy, Astrid enjoyed sparring and joking with Kili. When Astrid and Kili weren't fighting, they were exploring the elven house and talking and getting into things they probably shouldn't, often with Fili for company. Astrid had also taken to spending the evenings around the dwarves' fire, listening to Dwalin, Balin, and Bofur tell stories, and to Ori sharing what has transpired on their journey so far from the detailed notes in his journal—Astrid's favourite tale was of the trolls who'd tried to cook the dwarves for dinner the night before they arrived in Rivendell. She'd even managed a conversation with Bifur, which consisted mostly of her nodding and making vague noises of agreement while the dwarf spoke the ancient language of his people and gestured; this was something the others had found highly amusing, not that they had any idea what Bifur was saying either. Astrid had also met the hobbit Bilbo, who was accompanying the dwarves on their quest, though she hadn't had much opportunity to speak to him. Bilbo preferred to spend his time reading and exploring Rivendell, away from the rowdiness of his travelling companions.

The company of dwarves were entertaining and the wanderlust her first glimpse of the camp had instilled in Astrid was only growing stronger the longer she was around them, though the continuation of her journey was west, and Kili had let it slip they were headed east. Astrid had only dwelled on the thought of accompanying the dwarves for a brief moment, but it had been a good moment. It had been a long time since she'd seen anywhere east of the Misty Mountains, but she knew better than to interfere.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little sad to know the dwarves would be leaving Rivendell soon—that Kili would be leaving.

"I win again!" Astrid exclaimed as the edge of one of her wooden blades bounced off Kili's neck and he groaned in defeat. She pointed the end of her wooden blade at him and narrowed her eyes, her mouth bunching. "You had better not be holding back, dwarf."

Kili's mouth dropped in mock offense. "I would never dream of such a thing."

"Then I am wearing you down? And I had heard such things about the stamina of dwarves…"

Kili's eyes flashed over the laughter he was trying to hold back and he lunged across the space between them. Astrid caught his attack with both her blades but was forced back several steps as Kili kept pushing, not giving her time or space to launch a counter attack; she may have been faster, but he was stronger and sturdier than her, and she'd learned early on it was nearly impossible to get him to move. Her foot hit the edge of the courtyard they'd chosen for sparring that day and she slipped on the wet rock, landing with a splash in the shallow river running alongside them. Kili looked alarmed until Astrid threw her head back and started laughing.

-

On a balcony not far from the courtyard, Thorin watched Astrid and Kili spar, his face carefully blank to hide the emotions warring inside.

Thorin was growing impatient and it was making him angry. The dwarves had been in Rivendell for far longer than he'd hoped they would be, and though he had admitted to himself the elves of the valley were not his enemy, his was uncomfortable staying among them when Erebor was waiting. But there had been little choice in the matter: the moon runes Lord Elrond had discovered hidden on Thror's map could only be read under the light of a moon the same shape and season as when they were written, and that moon had yet to rise. Lord Elrond had said it would be the proper moon in a week's time—and it would be a week since their arrival tomorrow. Thorin didn't begrudge the hospitality of the elves, or the time to rest—the quest had barely begun and already they had been through more than expected—but he was eager to continue on towards Erebor, to see his home and finally rid it of the dragon, to walk in the halls of Erebor once more and return it to its former glory.

As they had since the meeting with Dain, thoughts of Erebor brought thoughts of Nerys, regardless of how hard he tried to push them away, of how much he didn't want them. The images of her in his head brought only pain.

He scowled under the fresh influx of emotions and pushed away from the railing of the balcony, turning his back on the scene below—only to find Balin standing behind him, his arms crossed loosely over his chest and a smile on his face.

"It does an old dwarf good to see that," he said, gesturing in the direction of the courtyard. "Especially on a quest as dangerous as ours."

Thorin huffed and turned back around just in time to see Astrid fall into the river. She looked shocked for a moment, but then she started laughing and Kili, also laughing, went to her with his hand extended. Instead of pulling herself to her feet though, she yanked Kili down into the water beside her. Their laughter reached Thorin and Balin on the balcony and one corner of the dwarf prince's mouth lifted in response. The expression faded quickly under the sense of worry that had been brewing since he'd first realized how close Astrid and his nephew had become—worry of what would happen when it came time for the dwarves to leave, how Kili would take it, how Astrid would. Thorin knew his nephew and he remembered Astrid from her time in the Blue Mountains. She had not changed much: still stubborn and still willing to fight for what she wanted and who she wanted to be with.

She had, and still did, remind him of Nerys in that way.

As if sensing his thoughts, Balin said, "She is something like Nerys, that one." His tone was light, almost happy, but then Balin had always been the best at dealing with his memories of his younger sister.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger and sighed, the thoughts of his betrothed coming back.

"What is it Thorin?"

When Thorin looked at the shorter dwarf, he could see something in his eyes, something saying Balin had known Thorin was hiding something. Thorin rolled his eyes. Apparently he could hide nothing from Balin or Dwalin. "Something Dain said when I was at the meeting has been bothering me, something… he said he… but it could not have been true. It does not matter."

"Thorin."

"He thought he saw her while in Lake Town," he said, the words coming out in a bit of a rush. Balin's eyes narrowed and he set his jaw; Thorin could see the change in his friend as he processed the concept of Nerys being alive. "He believes she is alive and living in Lake Town, but… that cannot be possible."

"No. No, it cannot," Balin agreed after a moment, his voice tense and a little regretful. "Have you spoken to Dwalin about this yet?"

Thorin shook his head. "I have been trying not to think of it at all. The quest to reclaim our home is far more important than one life," he whispered.

Balin huffed, though he didn't make any noises of agreement. "He should know."

Even though his voice was level and there was no sign of distress on his face, Thorin knew Balin was angry with him for keeping the information and scared to think Nerys might have been alive all this time, however small the chance was. Thorin knew because he felt the same.

Thorin sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "You are right, of course. I will tell him."

Thorin's attention drifted down to the courtyard again, where Kili and Astrid were now hunting for one of the wooden practice knives in the river, though they were spending far more time splashing each other than actually looking. Astrid took a step forward and slipped on the stones, a yelp of surprise coming from her throat. Kili turned and caught her just in time. Thorin watched the look pass between them as Astrid righted herself but remained standing close, her hands on his chest, a look of tension and unsaid words.

The would-be king turned and started down the steps, his entire being tight with constrained anger. Balin pressed his lips together and followed.

-

"Dwalin? Are you all right?"

The big dwarf looked at Astrid as she appeared in front of him and gave her a small smile, one not likely to be very reassuring. "I'm fine." He could see she didn't believe him however, so he asked, "Do you remember when I told you of my younger sister?"

Not bothering to question the connection, Astrid dropped onto the bench beside Dwalin and ran the fingers of one hand back through her hair, pushing it back from her face. It was hanging loose around her shoulders, still slightly damp from her fall in the river earlier. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the memories from so long ago and he could glimpse the five year old she had been in the expression. "She died when Smaug attacked Erebor," she said after a moment. "Thorin did not like you telling me about her."

"Thorin and Nerys were to be married—he does not like thinking of her at all." Dwalin cleared his throat, rubbed at his face. He still wasn't sure what to do with the information Thorin had given him, but he could not talk to Thorin or Balin about it, he knew that much, and he trusted Astrid to keep the information to herself. He was not angry with Thorin for keeping Dain's news to himself, because Thorin was right when he said the quest was more important, even if it was Dwalin's younger sister they were talking about. "Someone told Thorin they saw Nerys in Lake Town, that she is still alive."

Astrid's face broke in a bright grin. "If it's true, that is wonderful news!"

"Aye, if it is true."

"Do you have reason to believe it is not possible for her to be alive?"

"Thorin saw her bathed in the dragon's fire and we were unable to go back into Erebor to look for her. She was not among the survivors and was not counted among those who wandered into the nearby villages afterwards. It has been many, many years. She would have tried to find us." Dwalin looked straight ahead, to where the firelight of the dwarf camp lit the night. He was not seeing the flames though, or hearing the noise from the rest of the company. His mind was in the past. "It would be… hard to know she had been alive this whole time and I was not with her, but I do not think it possible she survived. Besides, there are more… pressing things we need to be concerned with."

"Your quest."

Dwalin nodded. "Our quest."

Astrid fell silent for a moment, her eyes also on the golden-orange glow of the fire. "Are you going to take back Erebor from the dragon?" She met Dwalin's surprised expression and shrugged with the shoulder closest to him. "I have been thinking about what would be important enough to cause Thorin to leave the Blue Mountains, and I remember the stories you and Dis told me when I was little, stories of Smaug's attack and how Thorin fought to find a home for the dwarves of Erebor. I have read tales of Erebor while here at Rivendell as well, of the tragedy of it all. It was not too hard to put the pieces together."

A little stunned regardless of her assurance it had not been a difficult task, Dwalin shook his head and said, "You read too much, little one."

Astrid smiled, knowing she was correct. "I will say nothing to anyone else," she assured him, perhaps picking up on his slight panic. "I assume secrecy is important."

Dwalin nodded. "That would be best. It seems your presence was missed," he added, gesturing towards the camp.

Astrid found Kili in the dim light, walking towards them on the path, and her face broke in a smile, one Dwalin wasn't sure she was aware of. "Well I did just get up and walk out when I realized you had vanished."

He watched the silent exchange between them. "We are not going to be in Rivendell much longer, little one," Dwalin said with some warning in his voice.

She turned her smile on him, her head cocked slightly to one side. "That is no reason not to enjoy the time you are here. " Her expression fell, her face turning serious. "I am sorry you do not think there is hope for your sister to be alive, Dwalin. I would have liked the opportunity to meet her."

Dwalin reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze, showing his thanks for her concern where he couldn't say it. Kili reached them then, a slightly crooked grin on his lips. Dwalin gestured for her to go when Astrid looked to him again. She leaned over and gave him a quick hug before getting to her feet and falling in line beside Kili as they headed back to the fire and food and ale. He heard Kili mention something about Astrid being familiar and she just shrugged it off, changing the subject to the plan for tomorrow. Dwalin smiled to himself because he could see what Balin had meant when he'd said Astrid reminded him of Nerys.


	5. Time to Leave

Thorin spent most of the next day moving through the halls and along the paths of Rivendell, impatient for the sun to set and the moon to rise. Lord Elrond assured him tonight's moon would be the proper one for reading the runes hidden in Thror's map, and as soon as he had the answers, the company of dwarves would be off, through the wilds and the mountains, towards Erebor. Towards home.

But Thorin found his mind still occupied by things other than the quest, despite his best efforts to the contrary.

Dwalin's face when he had shared Dain's news was at the forefront, the anger and hope and pain and concern. The big dwarf's first reaction had been to be mad with Thorin for keeping this information, but any hostility was quickly overcome with faint hope at the possibility of Nerys being alive and concern for how she had been living all this time. Had she been injured? Did she remember who she was? Had something happened to her to keep her from coming to look for them? Thorin shared the belief that, had she been alive and able, Nerys would have done whatever she could to get back to her brothers, to him. Under the weight of the shared conviction, Dwalin's hope had faded and he'd thanked Thorin for sharing the information before walking away.

The look on Dwalin's face as he'd left had been exactly what Thorin had been hoping to avoid by keeping the information to himself, but he knew the ambition had been a foolish one. Balin and Dwalin had been Thorin's friends for his entire life and could read him better than anyone; they always knew when he was hiding something.

Thorin sighed as he continued along his current path through Rivendell, a curving stone walkway which seemed to run along the perimeter of some of the smaller buildings in the complex. It was secluded, kept separate by a thick growth of trees and flowers on one side and the river on the other, which was what the dwarf prince had been after: a place he could think without interruption.

It was not, however, something he got for much longer.

He rounded the next bend in the path and found Astrid, sitting on a bench and reading, nearly invisible amongst the trees. She looked up when Thorin approached, gave him a small smile and lifted a hand in greeting, though he could see the apprehension about his company in her eyes. They had never had many interactions, but all of them had been short-lived and somewhat tense, and he knew she was intimidated by him, though she had never let that keep her from speaking her mind. As Thorin approached, he found himself replaying their first meeting in his mind, when she'd been a child and told him if he were a prince, he should wear a crown.

"It has been a long time since you were with us in the Blue Mountains, but it seems you fit in as well with my people as you did then," he said.

She kept up the smile, though the expression faltered a little bit as she closed her book and put it on her lap. "You remember me then?"

Thorin sat on the bench beside her. "I did not at first, but seeing the way Dwalin was around you reminded me. He treats you like a sister, as he did when you were young."

Astrid was silent a moment, chewing one corner of her bottom lip. Thorin may not have known her too well, but he could see she was debating her next words. In the instant before she opened her mouth to speak, he realized what she was going to ask and he almost waved away the question.

"Was he the same way with Nerys?"

A flood of anger filled Thorin, though he'd been expecting the question. It bothered him this human woman knew about Nerys, knew of his relationship to her when it was something Thorin kept to himself. He narrowed his eyes and Astrid flinched. Only a moment later, the anger dissipated, replaced by an empty weariness. He closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders falling as he settled back against the bench. "He was very protective of her," he said slowly, his tone as apologetic as he could make it. "But yes, he is much the same with you as he was with her."

"I… Dwalin mentioned she might have survived—"

"She did not," he snapped. "She could not have survived."

Astrid's mouth opened and closed a few times as she searched for an adequate reply. She ran a hand back through her dark hair, her eyes dropping to the ground, and cleared her throat before saying, "Then I truly am sorry. I have never lost someone I cared about as you must have cared for her."

Thorin nodded and made a non-committal noise, unsure how to respond to the statement. He expected Astrid to be wild and stubborn and her moments of calm, of empathy, of rational thought took him by surprise. Though, he supposed, she had had years to learn control, to become more aware of her actions, to learn to think before she spoke since the last time he'd seen her.

He thought then of the way she really did fit in with the dwarves, how she seemed to enjoy the loud and boisterous time around the fire sharing stories and food. He thought of the way his nephews were around her, of how focused Kili had been when teaching her archery, when learning from her.

"Astrid," he said after a few beats of silence had passed.

A smile passed over her lips and she exhaled through her nose, almost a snort of derision. "I am aware you will be leaving soon, you do not need to warn me. I am not going to cause any trouble. I know your quest is important." She turned her face to Thorin, her green eyes almost black in the shade of the trees. "It is not hard to know what you are concerned about. I do not imagine I hold the best reputation with you."

One corner of Thorin's mouth lifted and he knew without looking that Astrid's smile had grown to a full grin. She wasn't wrong, but Thorin was nearly compelled to tell her she was.

"I will leave you to your thoughts," she said, getting to her feet and starting down the path, her book tucked under one arm. She made it three steps before she turned back around. "Why have you not told Fili and Kili who I am?"

Thorin shrugged before he could stop himself. He had almost told his nephews their supposedly new acquaintance was the little girl who had cut their hair and stolen their arrows and knives, but something had stopped him. Perhaps it had been Balin's words on the balcony, about how the laughter and happiness was good, especially on a quest such as theirs. He was not sure how Fili and Kili would react to the knowledge either, so maybe it had something to do with letting them enjoy Astrid's company, of letting her enjoy theirs.

"It is your knowledge to share," he finally said.

Astrid nodded once before she turned and started walking again.

-

There was a different atmosphere surrounding the dwarves' camp when Astrid joined them that night, something almost palpable and a little sad. Judging by the half-packed bags and the warnings she'd received from both Dwalin and Thorin, it was because they were to leave soon, but she wasn't going to ask because she didn't want to think about it anymore than she already had. She liked the dwarves and, as it had been when she was young, the thought of seeing them off was not a pleasant one; though she'd never thought she'd see them again then and she had, so maybe this wouldn't be a last goodbye. But they were on a dangerous quest and she was headed in the opposite direction to continue her exploration of Middle Earth, so it seemed likely to be the end.

She remained hovering in the archway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, much as she had the first night she'd come to join them around the fire, watching the assortment of dwarves laugh and eat and carry on about six or seven conversations at once, talking to, at, and over each other with practiced comfort. It was easier now than it had been to follow all the conversations and Astrid found herself smiling as she picked out the elaborate tale Bofur was spinning, Dori chiding Ori for something, and Bifur trying to relay so information to Fili, whose eyes were narrowed in confusion at the grunted syllables and hard gestures. Nori and Gloin were arguing about something to do with gold coins and Bombur was cooking up some sort of stew over the fire. It smelled good, whatever it was. Thorin and Balin were absent, probably talking to Lord Elrond, and there was no sign of the hobbit or Gandalf.

Astrid caught Dwalin's eyes as she made another pass over the room, and returned his nod, a silent greeting. She followed the direction of his gaze to the back of the room, where Kili was sitting in one of the alcoves, a book propped open on his knees with a quill in one hand, and his pipe between his teeth. For a fleeting second, it bothered her that Dwalin knew she'd be looking for Kili, but she pushed the feeling away; it wasn't as if she'd been spending much time with anyone else.

Astrid's smile dropped when she returned her attention to Kili, and she furrowed her brow. Even in the dim light from the fire, the book he had looked like her journal, her journal that had been missing for a few days. She kept stories of her travels in it and she had been thinking about turning it into an actual book, not that she'd had any grand adventures or anything worth reading about. She'd mentioned the book to Kili once to twice, but it was still something she kept mostly to herself.

She pushed herself away from the arch and picked her way around the back of the cluster of dwarves until she was standing beside Kili. "Is that my journal?" she asked.

Kili looked up and grinned at her around the stem of his pipe, and damn it, she returned the expression; it was almost impossible not to. Instead of answering, he closed the book and tucked it and the quill underneath his bag, which was wedged between his side and the wall. "How about we get a drink?"

"Why do you have my journal?" Astrid asked, though she was following Kili back towards the fire.

"It's not your journal," Kili said as they sat in their usual spot by the flames, their backs to one of two pillars in the room. He accepted two mugs of ale from his brother and passed one to Astrid.

She smiled at Fili. "It certainly looked like my journal." She nudged Kili's ribs with her elbow as she settled back against the pillar when he gave her a smug grin. "Please do not tell anyone what you've read."

Kili grinned widely at her over the rim of his mug. "I won't."

She nudged him again, her lips pressed together to avoid laughing when she was trying to be annoyed, though she didn't really feel it. There was nothing in her journal unfit for sharing, and several others she had met during her travels had inscribed bits of knowledge or stories in it for her—things she wanted to remember, to be able to look at and recall the people and places that went with those stories. She trusted Kili would keep whatever he had read to himself. Astrid smiled at him as he shifted towards her, moving until their shoulders were touching and she was tempted to lean into him, to put her head on his shoulder.

The warnings Thorin and Dwalin had given her, incomplete though they had been, sounded in her mind. She almost pulled away, but she liked sitting as close as she was to Kili and if they were to never see each other again…

She gave her head a little shake and took a long drink from her ale.

-

The moon was high and bright—a tilted crescent almost like a smile—as Astrid made her way back to her room. It was also wobbling back and forth a bit. Wobbling? That wasn't right.

She stopped walking and rubbed at her face, which only made her feel more unsteady. A jolt went up her leg as she tried to take another step, the limb giving way beneath her. She had a split second to think how unfortunate it would be if she fell to her death over the edge of the pathway before someone grabbed her and hauled her back to her feet.

Astrid knew without looking it was Kili who had come to her rescue. "Rivendell seems to be a little bit off kilter," she mumbled.

"No, you are the one who is off kilter. I have never seen a human your size drink so much ale."

She narrowed her eyes as she continued forward, trying to remember just how much she had drank while sitting around the fire. With all the thoughts spinning through her head—thoughts of Kili, of the dwarves leaving, how ridiculous it was for her to fancy Kili, how much she was going to miss Dwalin, of how she wanted to go with them to Erebor—she had lost track of just how many cups of ale various dwarves had handed her. Astrid gave a snort as she walked, Kili remaining close enough to catch her if she stumbled again.

"Have you been to Erebor before?" she asked once they had reached her room. Astrid automatically headed for the bed, the idea of pillows and blankets seeming like the perfect thing at that moment.

"How did you know we are bound for Erebor?"

"I guessed." She kicked her boots off and sat on the edge of the bed, falling back so she was staring up at the ceiling. Her eyelids were suddenly heavy and sliding closed. Astrid shifted so she was lying completely on the bed and rolled onto her side to look at Kili, who was still standing close to the door. "Have you been there?"

"No."

"It seems an awfully big thing to risk your life to save a home you never knew."

Kili crossed the room, his footfalls sounding quite loud in the relative silence. He had left his heavy coat back at the dwarf camp and he looked smaller than normal, though he looked more comfortable as well. "It is the home of my people and my uncle will be king under the mountain." He said the words as if they were rehearsed, as if it was something he'd told himself over and over. After hesitating for a second, he added, "And I want to see the world."

Astrid smiled, wide and unguarded, at that response. It was a desire they shared. She opened her mouth to reply, but her words were cut off by a yawn. A thought came to her then and, being far removed from herself as she was, she let it out. "Kili, will you stay here until you have to leave?"

Silence met her query and she forced her eyes open to see if he had gone—maybe she had fallen asleep for a few minutes—but he was still standing there. He looked slightly alarmed by the request. She watched several thoughts and expressions play across his face before she closed her eyes again, sure he would leave, but then the bed dipped under his weight and she was smiling. Kili moved close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off him and she moved closer still, placing one hand on his chest and tucking the other under her head. The last thing she was aware of before sleep finally pulled her under was a blanket being draped over her.

-

Kili didn't want to fall asleep. It was an odd thing to feel, since he loved to sleep and knew it was important to be rested, especially since the dwarves would be leaving when the sun rose, but he just couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

He looked down at Astrid, sleeping soundly. Her breaths were deep and even and every once in a while she would twitch or mumble something he couldn't understand. She looked so different, though the nagging sense of familiarity was still there. He'd thought hard about where he could possibly know her from, but he kept coming back to Fili's suggestion: that she just looked like someone else he knew. That had to be it, since Kili's exposure to the world outside the dwarf settlement in the Blue Mountains was sadly limited.

Regardless, Kili knew he would miss Astrid.

Almost as if she knew he'd been thinking of her, Astrid gave a little snort and shuffled closer to him, draping her arm across his middle and almost burying her nose in his side. He laughed under his breath, though his cheeks where a little warm.

He reached down and brushed some of the hair from her face, his fingers brushing a faint scar along her cheekbone. Wondering how she got the initial injury, Kili's eyes finally started to slide closed. He tried to fight it for just a little longer, but he was warm and comfortable and soon, sleep got the better of him.

It only felt like minutes later when Fili shook him awake. Kili reluctantly untangled himself from Astrid and followed his brother back to the camp.

-

Astrid awoke with a start, her head pounding slightly in protest. Mumbling, she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and rolled onto her back. The first silver rays of sun were peeking around the trees and mountaintops into Rivendell, water glinting like liquid metal as it poured into the obscured bottom of the valley. With a small groan, Astrid sat up, realizing then what had awakened her: Kili was gone, the spot where he'd slept still warm.

"Kili?" she called, hating the tentative sound of her voice a bit. There was no response. "Kili?"

She slid off the bed and crossed the room to the window, squinting as she approached. A warm breeze pulled her hair back from her face and made her blink, but it felt good. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision further, and peered into the distance, a flicker of movement catching her eyes. It was just sunrise—who would possibly be moving around on the mountain?

The dwarves.

Astrid narrowed her eyes further as she counted the dark shapes moving along what must have been a fairly narrow path. Fourteen. All the dwarves and probably the hobbit then. She sighed and leaned against the wall, her head beginning to pound again. When she could no longer see the shapes moving along the mountainside, Astrid returned to bed, regretting that she'd never actually said goodbye to Kili or Dwalin or Fili or any of the dwarves.

-

The day was cloudy and cool, a bitter wind whipping off the lake, but Nerys barely noticed. Her eyes were glued to the dark shape of the Lonely Mountain on the horizon and she was doing her very best not to look at Dain where he stood beside her. She pushed some of her thick hair back from her face, her fingers tracing the scar tissue where it curled over the very edge of her jaw. Since Dain had returned to Lake Town and tracked her down, she had been able to think of nothing aside from Smaug's attack and the life she had lost; the memories weighed heavily on her mind most days, but with Dain actively reminding of her Thorin, it was harder than usual to shake the thoughts.

The dwarves from the Iron Hills had arrived early that morning, tired and weary from their long trek. They had come from the Blue Mountains, from a meeting with Thorin, a meeting confirming both the rumours of a quest to reclaim Erebor and Nerys's suspicions of who was engineering such a quest. Dain's news had first filled her with enormous hope and happiness, but the elation faded when he told her Thorin wasn't coming from her, that he didn't believe she was alive.

Not that she blamed him—he'd watched her bathed in dragon fire and then she hadn't been able to go and look for him. There was no reason for him to think she was alive.

"Come with us to the Iron Hills," Dain said, the sudden appearance of his voice in the silence making Nerys jump.

It wasn't the first time he'd asked. Part of Nerys wanted very much to go with Dain, to live among her people again, but she knew it wouldn't matter. The Iron Hills wouldn't feel like home; Lake Town barely felt like home and she'd been living there since before many of the current residents could remember. She would be at home when Thorin returned to the mountain, when she could see her prince again.

"I am quite happy in Lake Town, Dain."

"You a terrible liar. You are not happy here and you need to be protected. Durin knows why you haven't left yet—"

Nerys did look at Dain then, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. Dain had not said anything inherently wrong—he was thinking as he had been brought up to think: that dwarf women needed to be kept secret and safe because there were so few of them—but it fanned the flames of rage always present in Nerys these days. "I have not left Lake Town because when I was brought here after the attack, I could not walk or see or think—I could barely breathe! It took years to heal, years to relearn how to walk, to move, to even hold a sword, let alone fight. The people of Lake Town helped me and I owe them my life."

"So you stay for sentimental reasons?" Dain asked, his own voice rising to match Nerys's.

"I stay because I have never been beyond Lake Town on my own! I stay because I was raised to stay away from the rest of the world. I have tried to leave, but I am afraid!" She stared hard at Dain for a moment before she huffed and gave her head a little shake, the beads in her braids clacking together. "I do not how to leave, Dain, and I do not want to. I will stay here and repay the kindness these people have showed me. Thorin and the others will likely come through Lake Town on their quest and when that happens, I will join them and then I will go home."

She wanted to tell Dain she'd spent many years thinking Thorin and her brothers were dead, that she'd considered ending her own life so many times she'd lost count, and that being separated from her family and her people was painful all the time, but she could see by the look in his eyes her point had made it through.

With another sigh, Nerys started back towards Lake Town, the hem of her dress brushing the grass. She stopped when she was level with Dain and let her rage show through. "It would be best if you did not speak to me again while you are in Lake Town," she said, her voice level.

Dain nodded. "I am sorry for the offense."

Nerys held his gaze a moment longer and then continued back to the wooden town. She made it five steps before she started shivering and nine steps before her scars started to itch, the way they sometimes did when she was mad.


	6. A Prod in the Right Direction

Astrid never got back to sleep.

After tossing and turning for about an hour, she climbed back out of bed and started digging through her bags, navigating through her things by touch, since there wasn't enough light to see anything but vague shapes. Eventually she found what she was looking for: a sheathed knife tucked beneath her clothes, wrapped in a scrap of cloth. It was a keepsake more than a tool and she hadn't had it out in years. When she sat down on the bed, she pulled the cloth off and drew the blade out, the metal gleaming in the faint moonlight.

It was something she'd stolen from Kili when she was little. She'd used it to cut his and Fili's hair in childish retaliation to some incident she couldn't recall and when she'd tried to return the knife to Kili, after several apologies, he'd given it to her as a gift. Astrid had kept the knife to remind her of her time with the dwarves. It did the same thing now, as she spun it with one hand, the point pressed to her forefinger on the opposite hand.

So, she lay in bed and watched the light in the valley change, alternately playing with the knife and trying to sleep. She only climbed to her feet when the sun was bright and golden in the sky and the morning was alive with the sounds of birds, when the valley was waking up. For a few minutes, Astrid stood at the window, her eyes glued to the passage leading out of the Hidden Valley and her mind replaying the departure of the dwarves with the knife still gripped in one hand.

She gave her head a shake and mumbled a curse at herself; it was time to get moving, no matter how melancholy she felt. She changed into a clean white shirt and pulled her green tunic on, belting it in place. She braided her hair, the tail falling almost to the middle of her back, and laced on her boots. Out of habit, Astrid went to slide her knives into place on her belt, but remembered at the last second she'd lost one to the attacking goblins. She sighed as she slid her one remaining knife home, and then turned her attention elsewhere. After a few seconds of thought, Astrid slid the knife give to her by Kili into her boot, securing it in place with a spare strip of leather. The weight was oddly comforting.

As she started gathering her things, she heard soft footsteps behind her.

"Are you preparing to take your leave, Astrid?"

The human woman straightened and smiled at Lindir, who stopped in the doorway. "I am healed and I feel I have taken advantage of Lord Elrond's hospitality for long enough. I am anxious to be on the road again."

Lindir nodded once, the simple movement elegant in the way only elves could manage. "Lord Elrond made mention of wanting to speak with you before you departed. Would you oblige?"

"Of course, though I am not sure what he would have to speak with me about."

Lindir gave an enigmatic little smile and started walking, knowing Astrid would fall in beside him. Astrid hadn't expected Lindir to know the answer, but it felt better to voice her confusion anyway. They moved in silence through the airy halls of Rivendell, Astrid's head on a swivel to take in as much of the beauty of the place as she could before she left; she may have spent a good deal of time in the elven settlement, but it always seemed there was more to see. She inhaled deeply, the scent of the trees and the water and sunshine a comforting thing, though it did little to cheer Astrid up. When they reached the solar where Astrid had met with Elrond after recovering from her injury, Astrid smiled at Lindir. She would have given him a hug, had elves been bigger on physical contact, but she settled for the expression and a quick nod and knew Lindir picked up on the sentiment.

Inside the solar, she found Elrond seated at the table, engrossed in a map of the lands lying east of the Misty Mountains, a pile of books and papers sitting to his right. Astrid approached the table and sketched a quick curtsey when the elven lord looked up. He smiled and gestured at the chair to his left.

"Lindir said you wished to speak me with before I left?"

Elrond nodded. "I did. You have recovered well enough to travel?"

"Yes, though I would not have had you not healed me. I don't think I would have survived long otherwise. Thank you once again for all you have done."

"You are most welcome. I trust you have enjoyed your time in Rivendell?"

Astrid's cheeks reddened before she could try and stop the blush from happening, and she looked down, a small smile on her lips. She heard something that might have been a laugh from Lord Elrond and she looked up, the smile growing. "I did. It was a nice surprise seeing the dwarves again. I have fond memories of my time in the Blue Mountains." Elrond's smile turned warmer and Astrid gave a small laugh, pushing some stray strands of hair back from her face. "Was there a message you wanted me to deliver to my father?" she asked once they moment had passed.

Elrond shook his head. "Not this time, Astrid." He paused, his brow furrowing above a contemplative frown. "Are you sure your path lies to the west?"

"I… I am not sure what you mean," she said, though her mind had immediately jumped to one location, but why Elrond would direct her towards Erebor, she had no idea.

He waved it off with a quick gesture. "Pay it no mind." Astrid nodded, the frown still on her face, and Elrond gestured to the knife at her hip. "You lost the other blade when you were attacked, I presume. Lindir will see to it you are properly armed again before you make for the Shire."

Astrid blinked and then smiled. "Any chance you have a bow in my size?"

When Astrid returned to her room a little while later, she had a new set of knives on her hips—long, elegant elvish blades with green detailing on the hilts she'd immediately taken a liking to—and a bow and quiver strung across her body. The bow had probably been made for a child, though Lindir couldn't recall having ever seen it in use, but it was in good shape and the proper size for Astrid.

She removed the new weapons and laid them on the bed as she set about packing up her things; it was amazing how much she'd spread out when she had no real recollection of putting anything anywhere except her bags. It wasn't until all her clothes were folded and packed away with the other various tools and things she carried and she was doing a final sweep of the room that she noticed the book sitting on the table under the window. It was her journal, the book Kili had been writing in the night before.

Almost hesitantly, Astrid picked up the book and flipped it open to where the writing stopped. All the latest pages were in her handwriting, but there were notes stuck in the margins, matching up with her coverage of the time in Rivendell. They were written in an unfamiliar hand—it had to be Kili's writing.

A smile moved across Astrid's face as she read the notes. Most of them were concerned with her archery technique, but a few focused elsewhere: on her skill with knives, which he found impressive, and the colour of her eyes, but that one had been scribbled over more than once. The last comment had also been crossed out, but she could make out the word "Erebor" beneath the black ink. Astrid found the smile still on her lips, and warmth in her cheeks as she read the comments a few times over, her mind running back over the days the dwarves have been in Rivendell, over the words and the touches and the looks.

Then her mind moved to the quest, of how the dwarves were fighting to get their home back, of how there were only thirteen of them, plus one hobbit and a wizard, sometimes, and they were going up against a dragon.

Perhaps her course did not lie to the west.

-

"Do you believe it?"

"I honestly don't know anymore, brother. It has been a long time since I spared the time to think about her."

Dwalin sighed and rubbed at his face, trying to rid himself of the frustration that had been mounting since Thorin's initial disclosure of the information of Nerys's possible survival. It had been a long time since he'd thought about her beyond the odd memory here and there and it hurt. He hadn't believed it at first—how could he? But as they'd hiked from Rivendell, he'd let his mind wander and he'd actually let himself consider the possibility his sister was alive. Alive and stuck.

"Think about it now, Balin. Do you think she could actually be alive?"

If the older brother was alarmed by the sudden intense tone in Dwalin's voice, he didn't show it. Balin scratched at his cheek, just above his beard. They trudged along in silence for a few minutes as Balin considered his brothers words. The dwarves were fairly spread out along the ridge, giving Balin and Dwalin space to talk about the sensitive topic, not that Balin would have brought it up without provocation regardless of the situation.

"I suppose anything is possible," Balin finally answered, even though he knew the influx of emotions the words would cause. "I never thought we would see Erebor again, and now we are crossing the world to take the mountain back from a dragon."

Silence fell again and the dwarves continued forward, trekking over the rising and falling land between Rivendell and The Misty Mountains. As he did every once in a while, Thorin fell back from the lead spot of the procession to join Balin and Dwalin, though this time, his expression indicated he knew something was up. He didn't say anything, but clocked the expressions on the faces of his oldest friends. The tension between the trio rose significantly, until Dwalin finally cracked.

"If Nerys is alive—"

"Dwalin, we are not talking about her."

"It's possible—"

"She is not alive!" Thorin snapped with more force than before. "And getting our hopes up will only result in bringing old pain to the surface." Thorin's expression turned sympathetic and a little pained. "Do you not think she would have tried to find us by now if she was alive?"

"Maybe she tried," Dwalin persisted. "She would have no way of knowing where we had gone."

"Dwalin—"

The big dwarf cut Balin off with a curt gesture and kept his eyes on Thorin as the dwarf prince walked beside him. "You know as well as I how she was raised—like any of our other women: sheltered, guarded. She's never been out of Erebor on her own, and never farther than Esgaroth, even when someone was with her." He narrowed his eyes and let all his hope for Nerys fuel his words. "And if the dragon's fire wounded her grievously enough for you to think her dead, then perhaps she was incapable of leaving. Perhaps she is still incapable of leaving, or perhaps she does not remember who she is, or perhaps the trauma has left her too terrified to step outside of Lake Town regardless of how much she may want to—"

"Dwalin!" Thorin yelled, loud enough to draw the attention of some of the closer dwarves. It took only a few seconds for the entire company to turn their attention to the scene. They didn't draw any closer, but they were watching. "There could be a thousand reasons she did not come looking for us if she survived, but she did not survive!" Something wild passed over Thorin's face, something that kept Dwalin and Balin silent. "She cannot have survived. I would have known it."

The last part was barely more than a whisper, but Balin and Dwalin heard it nonetheless. As they had stopped walking, Balin approached Thorin and placed a hand on his shoulder. Whatever anger remained on the topic escaped with Thorin's held breath.

"It is not your fault, Thorin," he said. "I have told you as much before, but maybe it has been too long since you have heard the words. There was nothing you could have done to save her."

"I could have kept her from fighting."

Dwalin snorted from behind Thorin and Balin. This was a familiar conversation. It felt better than speculation. A small smile came to Balin's lips on the heels of Dwalin's laughter.

"Do you really think you could have kept her from doing anything she wanted? Especially if it meant leaving you at the mercy of a dragon?" Balin squeezed Thorin's shoulder, his aged face echoing Thorin's earlier sympathy. "Nerys loved you more than anything, Thorin. She wasn't going to leave you there. She wouldn't have left any of us there."

"She's not alive Balin," Thorin repeated, his head shaking slightly and his eyes closing.

Balin clapped Thorin on the shoulder and sighed before he started walking again, the other dwarves taking the movement as a sign they were to continue onward. Thorin and Dwalin remained beside each other as they walked.

"If she is alive and well—" Dwalin started.

"She will have our heads for leaving her behind."

Dwalin smiled and nodded, chuckling under his breath. A few beats of silence passed before Dwalin continued pushing. He just couldn't let the topic drop. "Do you think she would have tried to leave if she could?"

Thorin huffed and turned his attention forward, squinting into the distance. Dwalin didn't think the dwarf prince was looking at their path. It was several minutes before Thorin answered, long enough for Dwalin to think he wasn't going to answer. "She would have tried, but I do not think she would have succeeded. Now, please, I do not wish to talk or think of her anymore."

Dwalin nodded again and watched as Thorin returned to the head of the line. He gave his head a shake and made himself think of Erebor, of home, of killing the damned dragon.

-

"Have you ever heard Uncle talk about this Nerys?" Kili asked as he leaned against a nearby tree.

The dwarves had stopped to have something to eat on the edge of a stand of trees. Thorin was keeping to the edge of the group, his eyes scanning the land around them. Balin and Dwalin were engaged in more quiet conversation next to the fire. Ori was sketching some of the plants in the area and chatting with Bilbo, and the others were eating and talking and telling stories—standard for downtime. Fili and Kili were sitting in the shade off of to one side, attempting to catch a few minutes of rest before they continued towards the Misty Mountains.

"Never. Who do you think she was?"

"Someone from Erebor and someone Balin and Dwalin knew as well."

Fili rolled his eyes as he lit his pipe, the beads in his mustache clinking against it. "I'd say that is a good assumption, Kili."

The younger brother smiled and dropped to the ground beside Fili, pulling his own pipe from his bag and lighting it. The smoke curled around their heads. "She must have been someone important if Uncle will not talk about her. He has told us much about Erebor. Why leave her out?"

Fili shrugged. "I assume she is dead. Killed when Smaug attacked."

They lapsed into silence after that, as there didn't seem to be anything else to say on the matter, though they were both still curious as to whom Nerys actually was. After the near screaming match between Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin, it was likely all the members of the company were curious.

"Do you recall anything about Bran's daughter?" Kili asked suddenly.

"She cut our hair while we slept, made me break my toe, and hid my knives—yes, I remember her Kili." The brothers chuckled at the sarcasm and the memories. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you remember her name?"

"No, though I remember Dwalin calling her 'little one,'" Fili answered, his confusion at the questions plain on his face. "I am still unsure what you are after with these questions."

Kili chewed on the end of his pipe for a few beats, debating whether or not he should share his suspicions with Fili. Something Astrid had said during a conversation they'd had while walking through the halls of Rivendell, something about being uncomfortable with heights because of a childhood incident had struck him as familiar—the same sort of familiarity Kili had felt the first time he'd seen Astrid, teaching herself archery. It had been that night he'd remembered the tinker's daughter getting stuck up a tree after she'd cut Fili and Kili's hair, and moments later when his mind had made the possible connection. He wasn't sure how Fili would react to the idea; he wasn't even sure how he felt about the idea. The tinker's daughter had caused a lot of trouble for the brothers, but they had also been fond of her. That Astrid could be that little girl…

Kili shook his head and settled back against the tree trunk. "It is nothing important," Kili said.

"You know, I am not sure I believe that."


	7. The Wilds

"I will not tell you again, Dain, I am not coming with you to the Iron Hills. I came to see you and your people off, not for another lecture about the proper behaviour for a female dwarf."

"You should not have had to live here on your own for so long, Nerys."

"I chose to live here." Nerys glared at the older dwarf, her hands on her hips, fingers gripping the fabric of her dark blue tunic tightly. Her scars were hurting, the skin tight and itching, and they had been since her first conversation with Dain. The dwarf and his insistence that she did not belong in Lake Town made her mad, made her blood boil and her old injuries flare. "And I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

"You need to be with your people—"

"What I need is for you to stop worrying about me, to get out of Lake Town and let me get back to my life." She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing further. "And if you do not stop, I will give you something real to worry about."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away from Dain, leaving him standing on the edge of the city with the rest of his dwarves mingling about, making sure they had their things and were readying for the final leg of their journey home; they'd been making great time so far and did not want to slow down. Nerys heard Dain call after her, but she ignored him, setting her jaw and continuing her trek back to the tavern, to help Kelda in the kitchens. Cooking usually served to help distract her and she needed distraction.

Not only did Dain's insistence that she leave aggravate her, but his presence and words of her people reminded her of what she'd lost, as if she needed another reason to think of Erebor.

The muscles in her side clenched and she bit off a groan. She kept going though, used to the odd spasm.

When she turned the next corner however, the pain in her side became too much, heat prickling along her skin. Nerys put her back against the wall of the closest building and closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing deeply, trying to get the muscles to relax when they began to contract. She tried not to itch, because she knew from experience that would only make things worse. The dwarf woman doubled over as the spasm passed, bracing her hands on her knees and sucking down air, blinking the tears out of her eyes. She straightened and tried to ignore the curious looks the people in the streets were giving her, and keeping her eyes downcast, Nerys changed her path, making for her rooms instead of the tavern.

Inside with the door locked, Nerys pulled off her tunic and twisted uncomfortably so she could look at the mottled skin and scar tissue, the deep ridges of flesh darker than normal, exacerbated by the stress and the heightened emotions. She could only see the patch of scar tissue on her hip and her side, but she could feel the itching stretching up around the back of her left shoulder, along the side of her neck, up into her hair behind her left ear, and down to her backside and thigh. Memories of the heat of Smaug's fire flashed through her mind and Nerys winced, rubbing her hand lightly over the scars she could reach. She dropped onto the bed when the irritated had calmed and put her head in her hands.

When Nerys lifted her head a few minutes later she found there were tears on her cheeks. She wiped away the tears as the pain receded and got to her feet, the breeze from the open window suddenly cold on her skin.

"It is fine," she whispered to herself as she pulled her shirt back on, "You are safe here."

Nerys shook her head and headed for the door, planning on heading to the tavern, to work, but again she changed her mind. She lowered herself slowly to kneel on the floor beside her bed, reaching underneath to draw out the wooden box she kept hidden there. It had been a while since she'd felt the need to look at the contents, but it always helped to centre her, to calm her down.

She lifted the box onto the bed, a sob inadvertently escaping her lips, her scars still prickling a bit as she unlatched and lifted the lid, revealing the two short swords nestled inside. They were of dwarven make, the last of the swords sent from Erebor before the dragon's attack. She'd purchased them soon after she'd recovered enough to walk, to work and make money for herself. They were a reminder of home, of her brothers, of Thorin. She practiced with them occasionally, trying to regain her range of movement and skill with the blades; skill that had evaporated after her inability to use her left arm for so long.

Nerys lifted one of the blades in her right hand, fingers fitting against the leather, settling into the slight indentations she'd made over the years. Taking a few steps back from the bed, she swung the sword across her body and back then rotated her wrist, the blade whistling through the air. A wild smile took over Nerys's face, the pain vanishing in the wake of the rushing adrenaline.

After a second's thought, she picked up the second sword, twirling it experimentally. It still felt wrong to hold the second blade and her hand contracted at the wrong moment, the blade clattering to the floor, the brief seconds of euphoria falling with it.

Jaw set, Nerys returned to swords to their box and the box to its spot under the bed, sitting heavily on the floor when it was done, back against the bed. The pain and the itching had stopped, but she didn't exactly feel any clearer headed than she had before. She wondered if the feelings of doubt and discomfort would be plaguing her as much had Dain not stopped in Lake Town, or if she'd never heard the rumours of the quest to reclaim Erebor. She was unsettled and unsure and it was a place she wasn't used to occupying.

-

The land between Rivendell and the Misty Mountains was wild and difficult to traverse. There were no roads or clearly defined paths through the grass and brush, and the area had never been hospitable to travel, even when the Great East Road had cut through the area. The thirteen dwarves and lone hobbit of Thorin's company weren't too bothered though, the rocks and hills doing little to slow their pace. The Misty Mountains loomed on the horizon ahead of them; they would be climbing through the narrow rock paths soon.

At the back of the company currently travelling in a single-file line across a relatively flat patch of land, Kili was running through the motions he'd practiced while sparing with Astrid, when she'd been showing him how to dual wield knives like she did. It was difficult to get the movements right without holding actual knives. It was also easier to learn the moves with Astrid correcting him and laughing and fighting with nearly everything she had when they sparred. Thinking of Astrid was a little painful, despite his suspicion that she was the little girl who'd terrorized him and Fili when she was little; he hadn't wanted to leave like that, but he understood the importance of moving on as soon as they could. Thorin had received some information from Lord Elrond and they'd left immediately after, headed once again for Erebor.

After a few more minutes of the mimed fighting, Kili realized Dwalin had stopped walking and was watching the motions the younger dwarf had been moving through.

"Can I help you Mr. Dwalin?" he asked once he was within speaking distance.

Dwalin fell in beside Kili, a smile on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest and scratched his beard. "It seems you picked up a new skill in Rivendell," he said, nodding towards Kili's hands, no longer moving. "I never would have thought you would take an interest in learning knife work, lad. Or is it the woman with the knives you've taken an interest in?" he added, a knowing smirk taking over the big dwarf's face.

Kili's eyes narrowed slightly, in a manner more playful than angry, and his hands dropped to his sides. He ran through a few possible responses in his mind, before settling on telling Dwalin the truth. "She was unexpected, though she was fun. I felt like I knew her before I even spoke to her, though. That does not make any sense." Kili watched Dwalin's face for a reaction and got just enough—the barest hint of a smile—to confirm the suspicions he'd shared with Fili the day before. Dwalin had spent the most time with Astrid aside from Kili and Fili in the Blue Mountains; he would know better than anyone. "It was her, all those years ago," Kili said with equal measures relief and confusion.

Dwalin just smiled.

"Is that why Thorin seemed so… disapproving of her spending time with us in Rivendell?"

The smile faltered and Dwalin shook his head. For a few beats, they walked in silence, continuing to linger at the back of the line of dwarves. Fili looked back once, faint lines of concern on his face, but, determining nothing too untoward was up, said nothing. Eventually, Dwalin sighed and gave answer to Kili's question: "No, that is not the reason. Astrid was a mischievous little thing, but your uncle never held it against her. She was just a child, after all. Actually, I think he found her antics somewhat amusing, though he would never say as much." Dwalin smiled at some memory. "Thorin's coldness towards Astrid is… not her fault. There is something similar between Astrid and… and Nerys."

It was Kili's turn to let the silence drag on. He didn't think Thorin would be too keen on knowing Dwalin was speaking of a woman he'd managed to keep hidden for the better part of a hundred years, but at the same time Kili was eager to learn more about Nerys. "Who was she?" he asked.

"The youngest of Fundin's children, my sister, and… meant to marry Thorin."

Kili was struck by the sadness and pain in Dwalin's voice, despite the bigger dwarf's efforts to hide it; it wasn't an emotion he was used to associating with Dwalin, who was all boisterous joy and anger. However, he could understand. Kili had no idea what he would do if something took Fili from him. His brother was his closest friend and the person he relied on the most. To have him ripped away, it would be unbearable. Losing a sister would have added feelings of guilt as well, since dwarf women were all heavily protected, especially by their families, and Balin and Dwalin probably saw themselves partially responsible, not to mention Thorin. Kili sighed and tried not to dwell on it. There were many more questions Kili wanted to ask, but he kept them to himself, not wanting to exacerbate the pain Dwalin was already feeling. He tried to find something else to say, but he needn't have bothered.

Ahead of them, the rest of the dwarves had stopped walking and Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo were heading back towards them. At first, Kili thought Thorin might have heard what he and Dwalin had been talking about, but then he noticed his uncle's eyes glued on the horizon behind him, his mouth pressed into a thin white line. Kili turned around and found the source of the wary look on Thorin's face.

A figure was walking towards them, alone and still too far away to make out any details. All Kili could tell was, judging by the height, it wasn't Gandalf—who had a fondness for appearing without warning anyway—and it wasn't any of the elves from Rivendell. The figure was short and walked with confidence towards the company of dwarves, most of who were standing with their weapons and teeth bared, or at the very least, their hands hovering near their swords or axes or spears. The tension continued to rise, but before anyone could make a move, Kili recognized something in the way the figure walked and knew they wouldn't need to be hostile.

"It's Astrid," he said, loud enough for Thorin to hear and loud enough to break the tension.

Thorin turned, his dark eyes narrowing sharply on his nephew. "What?"

Kili knew by the tone of his voice that Thorin was demanding an explanation, and that he thought Kili had invited Astrid to join the quest. The young dwarf raised his hands. "I did not tell her to come," he said.

"Then what is she doing here?"

"I do not know."

The dwarves fell silent as they watched Astrid approach. As she drew closer, Kili could make out the shape of a bow poking out above her shoulder, surrounded by the dark fletching of the Rivendell arrows. She seemed to have found a matching set of knives to replace the one she lost when she was attacked, and was wearing a dark leather coat Kili hadn't seen before. There was a heavy-looking pack hanging from her shoulders as well, but she seemed only minimally bothered by the weight. She smiled at the dwarves when she was close enough, but the expression faltered when she found Thorin's steely gaze.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Astrid set her jaw, her shoulders falling into a defensive posture. Despite the stance, Kili could see a wavering fear in her eyes; Thorin really did unsettle her. "I am here to offer my assistance to your quest."

"How do you know of our quest?"

"None of your dwarves told me, if that is what you are worried about. I managed to put the pieces together myself and I am here to offer whatever assistance I can." She took a half-step closer to Thorin, matched his hard gaze. Her green eyes no longer showed any fear, all traces of it replaced by anger. "You cannot stop me from following you."

"This quest is not your concern."

"What if I wish to make it my concern?"

Thorin held Astrid's gaze for a moment longer before turning and marching back to the head of the column, muttering something about the naivety and foolishness of young human women; he did everything except throw his hands up in the air. Slowly, the rest of the dwarves fell back in line and started walking, realizing there was nothing further to be said or done. A few of the dwarves did smile and nod at Astrid, and Fili gave her a nod and a smile.

"It's nice to see you again Astrid," Bilbo said to the woman when all the dwarves save Kili and Dwalin had returned to the company. "There is something comforting in not being the only non-dwarf in the company." The hobbit gave her a warm smile before.

"Thank you Bilbo," she replied.

They shared one more smile before Bilbo turned and joined the rest of the company in the trek over the hills. Astrid hovered for a breath, eyes on those walking ahead, then on the ground. Finally, she turned and met Kili's gaze and a shy smile danced across her lips, her cheeks turning a little red, the blush bringing a similar smile to Kili's face. Dwalin said something quietly to her and ruffled Astrid's hair, pride in her actions unmistakable. He was glad to see her again. He didn't linger though, turning around to start walking once more. Astrid fell in step beside Kili, the flush returning to her cheeks.

"I found your notes in my journal," she said.

Kili's own cheeks reddened. The notes had started as reminders of pointers he'd given her while teaching her archery, so she could keep practicing and get better. He hadn't meant to write the comment about her eyes; it had just sort of appeared on the page when he'd been thinking about the way her green eyes shone when she smiled. The comment about Astrid come to Erebor had been intentional, but he'd crossed that one out with ferocity, knowing Thorin would not approve. "I am sorry I took it without asking—"

Astrid bumped her shoulder against his in the playful way she had in Rivendell. It was a gesture she used to show affection, Kili was starting to realize. "Think nothing of it. The notes you left... they made me smile."

"Good." They walked for a few beats in silence before Kili asked, "Why did you decide to join us?"

"I figured it was time for my wanderings to mean something. I've been exploring Middle Earth for a long while now, and I have done nothing worthwhile." Her expression was wistful when she met Kili's gaze again. She shrugged. "Helping get Erebor back is a worthwhile cause, though I should have anticipated Thorin's displeasure at my inserting myself in the quest."

Kili's answering smile was wide and bright, unguarded, as he saw no reason to hold it back. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they moved over the rough terrain, the Misty Mountains looming a short distance ahead. Soon they would be in the foothills and then the arduous climb would begin. A thought struck Kili then, a memory of Astrid's time in the Blue Mountains. "Is your fear of heights going to bothering you in the mountains?" he asked suddenly.

Astrid's eyes went wide. She nearly stopped walking. "I—you remember?" she sputtered.

Kili laughed at the look on her face—evidently she had not expected him to remember. He bumped his shoulder against hers, mirroring her earlier action. "That is for stealing my arrows, and this," he playfully punched her arm, just below the shoulder, "is for cutting my hair."

Astrid's lips thinned out as she tried to hold back her laughter. "Are we putting those memories behind us, or should I sleep with one eye open?"

"I am all for putting the memories in the past, but you should still sleep with one eye open as I am not sure Fili feels the same."

"Have you told him who I am yet?"

"I shared my suspicions with him, but that is all."

Astrid smirked and kicked a rock to the side of the path. "I was worried about how you would react," she admitted. "I was not exactly the best behaved, but maybe our time in Rivendell changed your opinion of me?" she asked, one eyebrow raising slowly.

Kili returned the quizzical look and the smirk. "Maybe."


	8. In the Foothills

By the middle of the next day, after packing their camp and picking up the trek east once more, the company found themselves surrounded by the large hills foreshadowing the impending climb through the Misty Mountains. The peaks themselves looked dangerous and frightening at their current distance, at least to Astrid, who spent as much time looking up as she did watching where she was going; she'd bumped into several of the dwarves and murmured apologies while trying to keep suspicions about her behaviour to a minimum. The only one who seemed to share any of her dread was Bilbo, who admitted to her he found the mountains daunting, as much as he was actually looking forward to the climb. She'd just nodded and smiled.

Kili had been right the previous day to assume Astrid's fear of heights would make the climb uncomfortable. She hadn't been the same with heights since climbing the tree in the Blue Mountains to escape the wrath of Fili and Kili—where once she had loved to climbs trees and get up where she could see everything, now her knees were beginning to tremble at the thought of being up in the rocky paths, so far away from the ground.

"Astrid, are you all right?"

She smiled at Kili as he stepped up beside her and nodded towards the mountains. "I am not looking forward to being up there."

Instead of saying anything, Kili grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting it go again. He and Astrid shared another smile. "We will not be in the pass long. One day at most."

"One day is one day too many for me."

The smile Kili gave her then was as reassuring as he could make it, but it told Astrid he didn't know what else to say. So she returned the smile and they kept walking.

The ground became increasingly rocky as they drew closer to the Misty Mountains, slowing the pace of the company and forcing Thorin to decide they would spend one more night on the ground before ascending. Balin and Dwalin, who Astrid was realizing seemed to act as Thorin's chief advisors, agreed it was better to wait for morning, so they had a whole day to try and get through the pass. The rocks would be even more dangerous in the dark.

So, once they found a suitable spot atop one of the hills—mostly flat and with a good view of the surrounding terrain—the dwarves, hobbit, and human set about establishing a temporary camp, everyone attending to their usual jobs. The dwarves had the motions down to a smooth routine, and Astrid did her best to be useful while keeping out of the way. She assisted with gathering firewood and kindling, since Gloin's stock had run thin, and then helped organize the camp so nothing was out of arm's length or the ring of light the fire would make. As the afternoon wore on, Dwalin declared he was going to see about finding some fresh meat to put in the stew, voicing the widely-shared opinion that he was sick of eating the various cured meats the company had brought with them.

"Kili, Fili, come on," Dwalin said as he passed patch of grass where the brothers had settled with Astrid. "You too Astrid," he added.

The trio exchanged a brief look before getting to their feet and gathering their weapons about them. Dwalin sent Fili and Kili off in one direction to hunt and took Astrid in another, cementing the suspicion in her mind that the dwarf was finding something for her to do. He'd been good at sensing when she needed to be kept busy when she was little as well.

"How good are you with that bow?" he asked as they headed away from the glow of firelight.

Astrid had immediately put some extra focus on her hearing; there would be goblins in the area and she wasn't keen on getting attacked again; her side pinched in memory. She gave herself a little shake and focused on the question. "Decent, for how short of time I've been at it, I suppose. I used snares to hunt before."

Dwalin nodded. "Keep an arrow at the ready."

Astrid nodded and they slipped into silence so as not to scare off any potential prey. They were far enough from the fire now for wildlife to start venturing out to nibble at the grass and bushes dominating this approach to the mountains. Astrid felt better, more stable the farther they were from the mountains, even if the distance wasn't that great—not looking at the looming piles of rock probably helped as well.

When the big dwarf stopped his forward progress and crouched into the long grass, Astrid followed suit, bringing her bow around and notching the arrow she'd held in the same hand in place. She wasn't sure she was ready to try and fire on a moving, living target, but she was going to do it anyway. Dwalin pointed to a large rabbit, sitting almost directly ahead of them and investigating a small, blooming plant. Astrid inhaled and exhaled slowly and drew the bow, positioning it the way Kili had showed her and the way she'd practiced a hundred times after the initial lesson. When she thought she had it, she let the arrow fly, the snap of the bow string less than she thought it would be in the open air.

She missed, the arrow striking the rocky ground just above the rabbit.

Astrid huffed as the beast skittered away, claws clicking on the stone, but she crept forward to retrieve the arrow and returned to Dwalin's muted grin. They set off again, Astrid's eyes and ears tuned for prey or predator, the same as Dwalin.

-

A short while later, when the sun had begun to set and all in the company were getting quite hungry, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and Astrid returned, each duo with something to show for their work. Fili and Kili had managed to net a small deer which was instantly set upon to prepare for travelling, while the few rabbits Dwalin and Astrid had brought back—only one of which was felled by Astrid's arrow, with Dwalin borrowing the weapon to bring down the other two—were skinned and added to the stew Bombur had underway.

When everyone had had their fill, or in some cases, more than their fill, the watches were assigned, dishes cleaned and stored away. Astrid half-expected the dwarves to stay up to sing and talk and tell stories as they had in Rivendell and most of the nights following their departure, and the camp was lonely without the joyous racket, but with their goal to start into the mountains at first light, she understood the need for rest.

It was too bad she wasn't going to get much.

She managed around an hour before the calls and cries of goblins and who knew what else started filling the air. Astrid awoke with a start and slowly sat up, looking around and fighting the panic. The sky was that dark blue it hit right before blackness took over, and what seemed like millions of stars twinkled down. Aside from Bifur and Bofur, who were keeping watch, the dwarves were all still asleep, unperturbed by the noise.

Another round of cries went up. A fear Astrid had never experienced in the face of said cries took hold inside and her side pinched again, the pain moving through her almost as if it was a fresh wound and not weeks healed. She could vividly recall the smell of the beast clinging to her saddle and the panic her and her pony had shared—briefly, she let herself miss Midnight, but knew the pony who'd been her companion for years was safer in Rivendell and Lord Elrond would see her returned to Astrid's parents eventually—and she never wanted to be that close to a goblin again. So, Astrid sat up on around the fire, legs crossed and her thoughts lost to the flames as she tried not to focus on the high-pitched screams occasionally punctuating the silence of the night.

"Having second thoughts about joining our illustrious quest?" Bofur asked around his pipe.

His voice startled her, Astrid having forgotten there would be someone up, keeping watch. Astrid watched the smoke from his pipe lift up and curl around his braids and the folded flaps on his hat as she calmed. "Not at all," she answered, putting a small smile on her lips and deciding not to admit how scared the goblin screams made her. "I'm not fond of heights and the climb through the pass… is a little bit unsettling."

Bofur nodded as if he understood exactly what she was feeling, and maybe he did. "Don't worry lassie, we won't let you fall."

Astrid gave Bofur her best indignant look, followed quickly by a smile. "I feel much safer now Bofur, thank you."

He gave her a wide grin as he took in the sarcasm and touched the brim of his hat, before he turned to his cousin Bifur and the pair began whittling away at hunks of shapeless wood. Astrid had seen them working in Rivendell, but hadn't really wondered too much about what they were making or why they were making it.

A short while later, Bofur and Bifur were replaced by Kili and Fili and Astrid felt a little better; it wasn't that she didn't trust Bifur and Bofur, but she knew Fili and Kili better, trusted them more. She smiled as the brothers sat, bleary-eyed in front of the fire, stretching and waking themselves up for their watch. Fili placed a log on the fire and the flames leapt up eagerly. Astrid opened her mouth to say something to the brothers, but at that moment, a loud and high-pitched cry went through the air, closer than before, and Astrid gave an involuntary yelp and physically jumped.

"They're circling," Fili said, looking around the campsite.

"Will they attack?" Astrid asked. She felt a little ashamed of his display of fear—neither of the dwarves had so much as flinched.

"Likely not with so many of us in one place," Kili answered, giving her a reassuring smile. She returned the gesture and he moved a little closer, so he could squeeze her shoulder. "They are just looking for weaknesses they will not find."

Astrid nodded and tried to look convinced, tried not to telegraph how much she wanted to lean into Kili.

"Your attack was near the Misty Mountains." It wasn't a question, so Astrid didn't answer. She just looked at Fili for a moment and he returned the stoic expression. "We will not let the goblins get to you again," he added, sharing in the smile.

Astrid laughed quietly. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"But you are scared."

"Of course I am scared!" Astrid gestured to the air around them as more goblins gave their cries and yells and a cacophony of noise rose up around what sounded like a fight. In response, Astrid pulled her coat around her tighter. "I don't want to be scared, but I am—of the goblins, the height of the mountains—"

"Heights?"

Astrid gave a start, her eyes widening a bit and beside her, Kili made a noise that sounded suspiciously like "uh oh." Preparing herself for the inevitable anger from the blond dwarf, Astrid nodded. "I am afraid of heights, yes. Many are. I am also afraid of falling to my death amongst the rocks." Astrid thought her voice sounded a little thin, but she was still determined to cover up what she'd said. But it didn't matter. Fili was looking at her strangely, like he'd realized something about her, but there was nothing angry or hostile in the look. Astrid sighed in relief and didn't bother to cover that up. She'd been afraid he would still be mad—she'd been a little terror.

"It was you all those years ago."

Again, it wasn't a question, but this time, Astrid nodded. He wouldn't believe her if she lied anyway. "Yes."

"You stole my knives, cut my hair, made me break my toe—"

"I am sorry for all of that," Astrid said earnestly.

Fili pushed himself to his feet and walked in a sort of crouch over to the ground beside Astrid. He sat down and was still for a second before he punched Astrid lightly in the shoulder. She rocked with the impact and almost laughed in relief but held it back. Or tried to. The laugh that managed to escape came out as a snort and resulted in another playful hit before Fili wrapped his arm around her neck and ground his knuckles into her head, ruffling her hair, and making her laugh more.

When Fili let her go, he was smiling. "Apology accepted, but if you do it again…"

Astrid opened her mouth to say something in reply, but more goblins screamed and dark shapes moved through the darkness just beyond the rim of the firelight, long fingers digging into the ground and kicking up dirt and grass. She only saw a few of them, five a most. On either side of her, Fili and Kili tensed, their hands falling somewhere near their weapons. Astrid moved back, one hand searching for her knives or her bow—anything. There was a prickling between her shoulder blades and the fear was clenching her insides.

As if summoned by the increased tension and danger, Thorin awoke and moved up beside his nephews like a shadow, his still-sheathed sword in his hands, ready to be drawn and used if the need arose. He didn't look like he'd just woken up; there was nothing sleepy about his movements at all.

"Have they made a move toward us?" he asked, approaching the edge of the firelight.

Fili shook his head, all business. "They have just been circling."

The dwarves and the human fell silent so they could listen, prepare for any sign of attack. However, the only noises were the crackling of the fire and the deep breaths and snoring of some of the dwarves. They waited, eyes glued to the darkness outside the firelight.

"They have gone," Thorin grumbled after a few moments.

Astrid dropped the knife she was holding and pulled her hand to her chest, the appendage still shaking rather violently. Cursing under her breath, she tried to draw away from Thorin, Fili, and Kili, to hide, but they saw her move. Kili look concerned, and Fili did too, to a certain extent. Thorin looked at her, his face lined with disappointment. Astrid imagined he'd been waiting to see her falter or fail since she'd inserted herself in the quest.

"If you cannot handle yourself around a few goblins, you have no place in this company," he said.

Astrid set her jaw and glared up at the dwarf, her green eyes dark in the dim light. "My fear would not have stopped me from fighting."

"Now we will never know for sure."

She glared harder and pushed herself to her feet, putting her level with Thorin and taking away the intimidation gained by him looming over her. She didn't say anything—she couldn't think of anything to say—but she met Thorin's gaze and held her ground and it was Thorin who backed away first, huffing in derision and annoyance before returning to his bedroll to catch a few more hours' sleep. Fili and Kili, who had both risen out of their battle-ready half-crouch, looked between Astrid and their uncle, faces carefully blank.

"Get some sleep, Astrid. Getting through the pass will be easier if you are rested," Fili said.

She nodded. "I will try. I am sorry—"

"You have nothing to apologize for now," Kili said, trying to make his voice light, his comment a joke.

Astrid gave him a weak smile before returning to her own bedroll and dropping onto her side, tucking one arm beneath her head. The cries of the goblins were gone and the air of the foothills was silent outside the campground. She wrapped her mind in the sounds of the sleeping dwarves and the fire and of her own heart beating in her ears and felt herself begin to drift off.

The last thing she heard before she finally managed to fall asleep again was the distant rumble of thunder.


End file.
